


Piña Colada Boy

by heavenandhale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Scerek - Freeform, Scerek Week 2013
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenandhale/pseuds/heavenandhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Hale family home had never burned down? Would his life be different, better—a little easier perhaps? What would have changed and what would stay the same? After a particularly bad breakup in New York, Derek decides it's time to return home to Beacon Hills. Along the way, he decides to stop for some quiet recuperation at a seaside California resort. But after encountering a handsome, dark-haired employee, will Derek be able to rest and relax as planned, or are some fates too entwined to be avoided?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A beach resort Scerek AU.

"Turn right in ... point three ... miles." a monotone female voice advised Derek, the directions barely penetrating his stormy internal monologue enough to register. Absently he turned the wheel, guiding his car onto the small side road that looked as if ten or fifteen years ago it would probably have been nothing more than dirt or gravel. On either side of the road were tall, feathery palm trees, green grass and splashes of color in the form of decorative flower beds. Derek couldn't help but roll down the window and take a long, deep breath, reveling in how drastically different everything felt from the dirty, crowded, grey and black urban landscape he'd left behind in New York.  
  
Even the smells were different, from the scent of all the greenery and the salty ocean breeze to the increasingly strong fragrance of laundry, chlorine, coconut-scented suntan lotions, commercial-strength cleaners and something... intoxicating. Derek narrowed his eyes slightly, now sniffing at the air in earnest. No... not something... someone. He could smell them clearly now: a mixture of sweat, shampoo and... one of those trendy deodorants that was supposed to make women more attracted to you? Oddly something about the smell seemed vaguely familiar. Rounding a corner, the source of the strangely arousing aroma became painfully obvious—a shaggy-haired brunette guy who looked like he was in his late teens or early twenties was working up a sweat jogging alongside the road, the summer sun glistening on his tanned skin and tight, toned body. Furrowing his heavy brow in confusion and arousal, Derek clenched his jaw and dragged a hand across the two or three days growth of stubble there, cursing and praising the slow speed limit on these tiny side roads as he drove past the jogger, unable to stop himself from staring.  
  
“Fuck.” Derek muttered, realizing a pair of the darkest brown eyes he had ever seen was now staring back at him, albeit with an eyebrow raised in an expression of confusion, amusement and perhaps a hint of concern. Momentarily Derek considered saying something or asking him if he needed a ride, in an effort to explain his behavior. Blushing deeply, Derek realized how intensely creepy that would sound and drove past, still glancing in the rear view mirror until the shirtless runner was out of sight.  
  
“Your destination is on your left. You have arrived.” the stiff, monotone voice broke the awkward silence and Derek gratefully pulled past a large, seemingly hand-carved wooden sign that read “Casa de Piña” and into the parking lot of a complex of surprisingly modern white stucco buildings with classic Mission-style red terra cotta tiled roofs. Quickly, Derek found a spot and threw his car into park, almost jumping out of the vehicle in an attempt to get into the building before an even more awkward encounter with the handsome, sweaty jogger boy became inevitable. Hustling through the tiled courtyard and past a beautiful fountain that was circled by a ring of flowerbeds, Derek took no time to enjoy the lovely decor, instead making a beeline for the arched wood and glass double doors and ducking safely into the hotel's lobby. Derek heaved a deep sigh of relief, straightened himself and headed for the front desk, “Reservation for Hale?” he asked simply of the pale, skinny boy with buzz-cut brown hair who had just finished entering someone's information into the hotel computer, resisting the urge to smirk at how lucky he was to have avoided further embarrassment.  
  
“Hale? Alright, let's see. Derek Hale? Weird. That sounds kind of familiar.” the boy trailed off, never turning his attention from the computer's monitor as he searched the system for the reservation and absently handed Derek a small paper envelope with a room number written on it, unconcerned with his lack of response. There was only one reservation for Hale, so confirmation seemed unnecessary. Finally glancing up from his work, the boy's mouth fell open as he took in the heavily muscled form before him, eyeing Derek up and down like a piece of meat, much like Derek realized he himself had been doing from his car window just a couple minutes ago. “Uhh... sorry about that! Dizzy spell, haha. They really need to get us a chair or something. Anyway, looks like you've already paid online, so if you wanna follow me I can show you to your room.” Derek could actually hear the boy swallow hard.  
  
“That's alright. If you'll just point me in the right direction I'm sure I can find it. But if you could have someone bring up my luggage, that'd be great. It's all in the trunk.” Derek fished his keys from his pocket and dropped them on the counter.  
  
“Oh,” the boy blinked once, nodded a bit and looked around at nothing in particular, “Okay. Right, well if you just head back out the front doors and take a left, you can follow the path back around the main building and yours will be the second building on your right. You... sure you don't want some help?”  
  
“I'll manage,” Derek started, wanting nothing more than to head straight to his room, yet forcing a polite smile, “but thanks.” Turning on his heel, he practically bolted for the door, realizing the route to his room would put him in jeopardy of running into jogger boy after all. Closing the final few paces to the door, Derek began to reach for the handle only to see through the door's glass a pair of down-turned dark brown eyes and lean, sweat-drenched muscles pulling the handle on the other side. “Shit.” Derek whispered, freezing in his tracks.  
  
The door opened and the jogger half sang, half hummed with his music as he turned it off, using his free hand to take his earbuds out and shove them in his pocket. Preoccupied, he remained totally oblivious to the scruffy, motionless black-haired figure on the building's interior. Derek's heart leaped into his throat and his entire body stiffened as a soft thud filled the room. Stumbling backwards a bit, the shaggy-haired jogger finally looked up at the wall of muscle he'd just collided with, his lips parting slightly as he inhaled sharply, then finally forming words, “You!” he gasped, then blinked and shook his head, “I mean... sorry. I guess I should watch where I'm going. Just not used to people standing right inside the doorway.” He laughed nervously.

“Oh! Scott! Hey!” the pale, cutely-speckled front desk attendant joined them excitedly, “You two know each other?”  
  
“Stiles! N-no... not exactly.” Scott raised an arm and scratched absently at the back of his head, his gaze shifting off to anywhere but Derek, clearly struggling with what to say before coming up with, “I... er... I just saw him driving by a few minutes ago and uh... really liked his car.”  
  
“Oh really?” the corners of Stiles' mouth turned down almost imperceptibly as he crossed his arms, clearly unconvinced, “Must've been a sweet ride! What kind of car was it?”  
  
“It was... black.” Scott gritted his teeth and stared hard at his suddenly infuriating friend and co-worker, as if wishing he could bore holes into his skull with his eyes alone, “You know how I love black cars.”  
  
“Fine.” Stiles threw his hands up defensively, retreating to the computer behind the front desk, “Just try not to crash into all our customers. I mean look how sweaty his shirt is now. We can wash that for you if you want, Mr. Hale. No charge, since it was SCOTT'S fault.” Scott and Stiles exchanged another series of looks that seemed to say something along the lines of 'Dude! Shut up!' and 'Hey, I'm not the one who forgot how to walk!'  
  
Derek, who had been looking down at his black, short sleeved henley and the wet spots where Scott's sweat were soaking into the fabric, quickly looked up, wide hazel eyes flashing intensely, “No. It's fine. Just a little sweat. It'll dry. I'm just gonna head to my room. Don't worry about sending up my stuff. I've got it.” Derek quickly grabbed his keys and disappeared through the front door before either of them could respond.  
  
“Who the hell was that?” Scott asked, staring at Stiles pointedly, then slugging him in the shoulder, “And thanks for having my back, man! Seriously! 'What kind of car was it....'” Scott huffed, leaving a shocked, overly-offended looking Stiles clutching his shoulder dramatically.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles keeps Scott company while he works by the pool. Derek makes a couple unanticipated discoveries about Scott.

“Heh, yeah. Not really what you'd call a good start, right?” Derek said into his cell with a chuckle followed by a gloomy sigh, “How about you? Mom still ready to fly to New York and tear Taylor's throat out, or did you manage to talk her down?”

“Haha, well you know Mom. She doesn't really listen to anyone since dad... never mind. Damn Argents... But yeah, better tell Taylor to keep out of California for a year or two, just to play it safe. That is.. if you two are still talking. To be honest, I can't blame Mom for getting so worked up. Kinda surprised you didn't tear Tay's throat out yourself, after all the lies and stealing, not to mention what you walked in on. That was fucked up, bro. No one would've blamed you.” a strong yet comforting female voice replied.

Derek snorted, a smile momentarily piercing his sulky expression, “Thanks Laura. I don't really get it either. I was just... done. Couldn't get out fast enough. I just hope I haven't ruined this break before it's even started." Derek picked up his room key and tapped it a couple times against the table before setting it back down, "I guess I could always just come back to Beacon Hills early. It'll be good to be close to the family again. Speaking of which, Mom does listen to you. She's always listened to you.”

“No way. You'd better enjoy yourself while you can, Derek! The minute you get back to town, I'm gonna whip your ass into shape. Better be ready for 24/7 training, little brother, 'cause it's sounding like you've gotten SOFT!” Laura laughed, a hint of mischief coloring her tone as if she were already planning out devastating training sessions.

“Fuck off, I have not gotten soft!” Derek laughed, “Fine. 24/7 R&R it is then. While it lasts. Thanks sis. What would I do without you?”

Laura scoffed, “Probably act moody and hopeless all the time. Or maybe just get even softer. I don't think I can bear to think about it. Gonna have to go before all this soft rubs off on me.”

“Later, Laura.” Derek chuckled, “Love you.”

Derek tucked his phone into his pocket and took a look around his temporary digs, locking his fingers behind his head and nodding in surprised satisfaction at the luxurious furnishings, full kitchen and view of the pool area below. Grabbing a pair of red swim trunks from a hastily packed duffel, he caught a glimpse of the sweat stained shirt he'd flung on the bed earlier, his eyes locking onto it. Even from across the room it still smelled like Scott, and Derek couldn't help but inhale deeply, taking in the scent of the sexy brown-eyed boy and subconsciously clutching the crimson fabric in his hands before finally blinking and shaking his head as if frustrated with himself. “Maybe I have gotten soft. Laps. I'm definitely gonna need to swim some laps.” he groaned, heading to the beautifully tiled bathroom to grab a towel and throw on his trunks.

The Casa de Piña pool area was breathtaking, set a good distance below the main reception building and guest rooms. A waterfall flowed from the upper area, falling into the largest of the swimming pools below. On either side, the waterfall was framed by twin staircases that matched the strong modern architecture of the rest of the resort, yet incorporated the color of the classic mission-style roofs with a series of square terracotta planters lining them as they rose to meet the walkways of the upper level. Tall, feathery palm trees like the ones Derek had passed on his way into the hotel were on two sides of the pools, arranged symmetrically across from each other offering a sense of seclusion, and on the fourth and final side, swimmers were treated to views of the resort's private beach area.

Despite all this, Derek Hale was not relaxing in the pool with the waterfall, nor swimming casually near the palms. Derek was intently swimming sprints in the lap pool, completely focused on his performance and oblivious to his surroundings, his lonely bath towel basking in the summer sun on the nearby lounge chairs instead of him.

“Um, dude that's not normal. Nobody swims that hard on vacation.” Scott said to a now poolside-lounging Stiles, looking in the direction of the lap pool as he headed into the long thatched gazebo that housed the food and beverage service for hotel guests. Now dressed in khaki shorts and a logo-emblazoned white polo, Scott searched for his manager, looking crestfallen when he couldn't find her. “Dammit. Now I'm gonna have to clean the pool. I wanted to serve drinks today. I hate cleaning the pool. Remember that dead bird I found in there a couple weeks ago?”

Stiles responded by silently adjusting his shades and slathering himself with some more broad spectrum SPF 100 sunblock. Scott rolled his eyes and moaned, “Ughh, you're not still mad at me for punching you in the shoulder are you? I didn't even punch you that hard.” Scott put down the pool cleaning net he'd just grabbed from its hook and hugged Stiles around the neck where his t-shirt provided a sunblock-free safe zone, “Come on. You can't stay mad at me. You know I loooove you!” Scott teased.

“And you know I bruise easily. And burn easily. And … shut up. I'm busy watching that Hale guy swim. The guy is huge! And ripped. Besides, I'm not really mad at you. I just wanted to mess with your head a little.” Stiles pushed Scott away and finished applying his sunblock.

“Asshole.” Scott laughed, punching Stiles in the shoulder with exaggerated gentleness before picking up the pool cleaning net again and reaching to fish a bug from the water with it, “And for the record, he might be ripped, but the guy's also kinda creepy. He was totally staring at me while I was jogging earlier. Like... rubbernecker staring.” Scott pantomimed someone staring at something as they drove past.

“Actually, more people should swim sprints like that.” Stiles seemed to ignore Scott's comments, “Y'know, studies show that repeated sprint ability is indicative of strong anaerobic and general fitness. Maybe you should incorporate them into your running sometime. Wait. He was checking you out?!”

“Yeah...” Scott hesitated.

“I hate you, ya know.” Stiles huffed, “Ever since Jackson quit the lacrosse team and left town, and you and Danny made co-captain, all the girls have wanted you. Even that Allison girl you liked for a while. I still say there was something weird about her, by the way. And don't even get me started on her mom. Worst. Sub. Ever. Anyway, my point is leave somethin' for me! You don't even like guys!”

“Says who?” Scott laughed as he skimmed a band-aid from the pool and pulled a revolted face as he tipped it into the garbage, “I like **you** , don't I? And now that you mention it, Jackson was kinda my type. If I hadn't been so into Allison... who knows? Except I'm pretty sure he hated me.”

“Shut up. Jackson was everyone's type. That doesn't count.” Stiles crossed his arms defensively, “Okay, whatever. I'm bi. You're bi. Jackson's bi. Everyone gets to be bi. But you already said you think Hale is creepy, so I call dibs. Now go talk to him for me. I still suck at talking to preeeeeetty much anyone I'm attracted to.”

“You can't call dibs on a person. Besides, weren't you getting along pretty well with that redhead a couple weeks ago? I don't remember you needing any help there! Give yourself some credit! Sooo... yeah. I'm gonna go with no. You talk to him. He makes me nervous.” Scott wrinkled his forehead as he waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture. Suddenly Scott spotted his manager out of the corner of his eye, “YES! Carie! Hey! You opening the bar? Can I start serving drinks?”

Stiles turned his head and glared at Scott's disappearing figure over the top of his shades, then rolled his eyes, “Jerk.” Suddenly Stiles sat bolt upright in his lounge chair, “YEAH! That's what I'm talkin' about!” Stiles' mouth hung open as he watched Derek exit the pool, his eyes devouring every last dripping wet inch of Derek's exposed skin. Quirking an eyebrow at Derek's interesting tattoo, Stiles found himself making an odd strangled sound at the sight of Derek's biceps flexing as he started drying his face, “Dear God, just let me be that towel for the next couple minutes, that's all that I ask, okay?”

Panting slightly from exertion, Derek had strolled over to the chair he'd draped his towel across and started drying himself. He'd only managed to dry his face and hair when a gust of wind snatched his towel and dropped it a couple feet in Stiles' direction, causing him to look that way. Caught totally unprepared, Stiles made like he was reaching for his sun block rather than staring blatantly at Derek's body, fumbled it and fell out of his chair onto the ground. Derek could've sworn he heard him exclaim, “Fuck!” but stifled a laugh and tried to pretend he hadn't noticed anything, instead grabbing his towel and finishing drying off as he turned his face to hide his surprised, amused expression.

For a moment he considered going back to his room and sparing the guy any more embarrassment. After all, today he could definitely relate. But the sun felt too good on his skin and he suddenly remembered his sister's words, “Enjoy yourself while you can!” Laura was right. Derek spread his towel across the lounge chair and laid himself down, taking a moment to get comfortable. After all, he figured, how often would he get the chance to relax like this once he was back in Beacon Hills? And maybe the boy could go back to enjoying a good stare, if that really was what he'd been doing. It wasn't like Derek really minded. As the sun began to sink into his skin, Derek luxuriated in the sensation, wishing that Scott had given him a chance to stare at him a bit longer.

Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed. He could almost feel the tension flowing out of his body and dissipating in the warm air around him. Blissfully, he began to doze when, to his annoyance, a vaguely familiar voice interrupted him, “Um... hey. Mr. Hale. Sorry to bother you but we just opened the bar. If you'd like to order anything to eat or drink, I can bring it out for you. Here. Just give me a wave if you wanna order anything.” Scott handed Derek a laminated menu with a small selection of fruits, snacks, frozen treats and alcoholic beverages.

Stretching and squinting a bit, Derek tried to focus on his face but it was no use. He was standing with the sun directly behind him, making him look almost like a silhouette against the thin halo of sun that his shaggy hair failed to obscure. “Derek. Just call me Derek. Wait... don't tell me you work here...!” he clenched his jaw, furrowing his brow a bit, “You're not just visiting that friend of yours who works the front desk? Do you always jog to work?”

“Er, no. I mean yes.” Scott stammered, “Yes I work here. No, I don't jog to work. There's not a lot of housing around here so they let some of us rent rooms to save time on commute. I just like to run. There was this huge nature preserve back in Beacon Hills with a hiking trail that I used to run to train for lacrosse, but since there's nothing like that around here, I just run along the road instead. Look, I've gotta hand out these menus. Let me know if you need anything.”

Suddenly Derek sat up, causing Scott to steal a glance at his flexing abs. “Hold on, you're from Beacon Hills?” Derek said, looking incredulously at Scott whose face was visible now that he'd taken a couple steps toward his next customer.

“Yeah... so?” Scott quirked an eyebrow, wearing almost the same confused, slightly concerned expression he'd given Derek earlier.

“ **I'm** from Beacon Hills. That's actually where I'm headed after this. My family's still there. Well, most of it.” Derek answered, his look of surprise fading for a moment, “How about your friend from the front desk? Miles? He from Beacon Hills too?”

“Uh, Stiles? Yeah. We both went to high school there. His dad's the freakin' sheriff!” Scott laughed briefly before exchanging anxious looks with his manager, “Look, I really do have to go hand out the rest of these menus. I'll see ya around, okay? Later!”

“Sure. Later.” Derek leaned back into his chair looking perplexed. By the time a hint of recognition began to spread across Derek's face, Scott was already flirting with a pretty brunette girl and writing something on a small pad of paper while she and her friends smiled and laughed, pointing at various items on the menu.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek sucks at relaxing and inadvertently ends up overhearing a conversation between Scott and Stiles.

Back in his room Derek lie awake on his bed after having taken a quick rinse in the shower and changing into something dry. Examining his arms, Derek sighed and frowned in annoyance. It never seemed to matter how much time he spent in the sun, he still couldn't seem to get a decent tan. Something about werewolf healing ability seemed to prevent it, like his skin healed faster than the sun could damage it. His frown faded quickly though as he realized that it could be a lot worse—after all, he didn't have to waste time putting on sunblock and he never had to worry about getting burned from staying out too long. 

Shifting around restlessly, Derek stared at the ceiling. All this relaxing was hard work. He couldn't seem to just lie in one place without getting antsy or changing positions. In a single fluid movement, he sprung to his feet and headed for the window. “Maybe I just need some more ocean air.” he mused as he flipped the latch and slid the window open. Derek blinked. Over all the splashing, laughter and chit-chat, he could hear Scott's voice. “Well that's sure as hell not gonna help me relax.” 

Derek snorted, starting to close the window again, but stopping suddenly. Scott was laughing, and it sounded … wonderful. Derek threw open the second curtain, hoping to catch a glimpse of Scott's face before the laughter ended. Wherever Scott was, however, he must have been beyond Derek's line of sight. Disappointed, but entranced, Derek fell back on the bed, reflexively grabbing the Scott-scented shirt he still hadn't bothered to put away since he threw it on the bed earlier. 

“Yeah? And?” Scott laughed, “At least I'm not spending my time off hanging out at work. Besides, she was flirting too, ya know. They actually left a pretty nice tip. Hey, why _are_ you hanging around out here? I thought you were gonna play that online game you like. Didn't your alliance have a raid or something?”

“Well, yes. My **guild** did have a raid scheduled, but our best healer had to go to the doctor for carpal tunnel or something, so no go.” Stiles corrected Scott with his reply, “And it's more fun watching you get stuck cleaning the pool after all than it is to listen to people gripe about the raid falling apart.”

“HA! Asshole!” Scott laughed, “Taking pleasure in my pain.”

“Speaking of pleasure.” Stiles began, “You and Mr. Hale were sure talking a lot. I guess you really do like guys now and then, huh?”

“He's... okay I guess. Did you know he's from Beacon Hills?” Scott responded, “And for the record, he doesn't seem to like being called that. Asked me to call him Derek.”

“Okay? You guess? Scott, the guy's built like Hercules or something. I'd give up my computer just to help him rub some sunblock on his back. Wait, did you just say he's from Beacon Hills? We never get guests from back home. I'd know. Devin keeps making me take her shifts, so I pretty much have to check in everybody lately.”

“I know, right? I don't think I've ever met a guest from Beacon Hills either. And yeah, I've gotta admit he's pretty ripped. Even Jackson would've been jealous. Remember when he thought Danny was getting bigger than him? Oh, he asked about you by the way. Derek, I mean.” Scott laughed.

“He did not.” Stiles nearly shouted.

“Yeah, except he thought your name was Miles.” Scott laughed even harder, “Aaand he just wanted to know if you were from Beacon Hills too.”

“You. Suck.” Stiles grunted, and a soft thud followed shortly thereafter, along with an 'oof', “Now give me back my shoe.”

“No way. It's totally going in the pool.” Scott's tone rang with mischief.

“If my shoe goes in, you're going in.” Stiles threatened, a chair scraping loudly against concrete.

Derek blinked and sat up, his brows raised in a mixture of shock and amusement, “Oookay. Way to be a creeper, Derek. Good job.” He clicked on the TV in an attempt to drown out Scott and Stiles's voices, heading for the window and pulling it closed again and then tucking the Scott-scented shirt into the bottom of his duffel. 

“Scott thinks I'm ripped...?” Derek raised his eyebrows and mused smugly as he flung himself back on the bed, “I can live with that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek makes an attempt to get some alone time with Scott. Stiles goes digging online for something to explain why Derek's name sounds so familiar.

Specks of dust danced in the shaft of late morning light that fell across the disheveled pile of blankets strewn across Derek's unmade bed. In contrast, a cloud of anxiety seemed to hovered over him as he paced in front of his hotel room door, his jaw muscles clenching and his brows knotted in frustration and indecision, “This idea is terrible. How does Laura come up with these things?” Derek turned and scrutinized himself in a mirror, fretting with his white undershirt and the shredded edges of the black jeans he'd just torn the legs off of from the knee down, “I don't even have any workout clothes. Or go to the gym.” Derek gritted his teeth, “I will _never_ understand why people pay to work out in public." Growling and dropping his hands heavily to his sides, he paced one more time in front of the door, “Fine. Laura's usually right anyway. Just get on with it already.” He grabbed the handle firmly and threw the door open, letting it bounce off the rubber doorstop and close behind him. 

In the swimming area below, Derek scanned the bar and pools for any sign of Scott. “Terrible idea...” he muttered but headed toward the reception area regardless. Moments later Derek was already walking up to the front desk, trying to stifle the feelings of relief that attempted to manifest themselves upon his face when he saw that Stiles was indeed working. Apparently he was so lost in his work, however, that Derek's footsteps hadn't even drawn his attention. Rather than look up or greet his guest, Stiles' focus remained firmly fixed upon the computer monitor before him. Dropping his hands loudly on the front desk, Derek blurted, “Hey.”

Stiles jumped back a good three feet, knocking the mouse from the desk where it dangled helplessly while a gaping Stiles' struggled to catch his breath, “Oh my god. Don't sneak up on me like that!” Stiles surreptitiously hit a couple keys on the keyboard as he stepped forward again.

“Uh. Yeah. Wasn't trying to. Maybe you should put a bell on the door or something. But whatever, I'll try to be louder next time.” Derek quipped, “I was just about to uh... do some strength training in your gym, but there's nobody in there to spot me on the free weights. Is Scott free? Yesterday he mentioned something about lacrosse training, so I thought maybe he could lend me a hand.”

“Yeah, we were on the lacrosse team. If you want, I could absolutely spot y...ou." Stiles' expression shifted from excitement to disappointed frown. "Wait. No. I mean... crap. What I mean is that I would, but I can't leave the desk unattended and there's nobody else on duty right now so although I'd be happy to, I really just... can't.” he rambled, looking out of breath and defeated, “But Scott's off today so he's probably free. Can you just hold on a minute while I call him?” Stiles pulled out his cell.

“Sure, but why don't you just use _that_ phone?” Derek pointed snarkily at the desk phone next to the computer.

“Ha. Um, knowing Scott he's probably still lounging around in his boxers. Definitely not gonna answer if he sees a company number. They're always asking us to pick up extra shifts.” Stiles said as he edged gradually toward a door marked “Employees Only”, “I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere.” Stiles slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Scott! Hey! Nonono. This has nothing to do with extra shifts. Derek Hale is at the front desk right now wearing nothing but cutoff jeans and some hot-as-hell undershirt that shows like... everything. And he needs someone to spot him while he lifts free weights or something.” Stiles uttered in tones that although hushed, Derek couldn't help but overhear through the thin door. “Yes, Scott. I know jeans aren't allowed in the gym. Nobody's in there anyway. I think you're missing the point.”

Derek looked down at his shirt and shorts and released a hushed groan, rubbing his hand across his scruff.

“Yes, I want you to talk to him! Don't you at least want to figure out if we knew him or something? I still think his name sounds really familiar. Besides, I seem to recall somebody saying that he thought Derek was so shredded he made Jackson Whittemore look like a droopy-eyed, armless schoolgirl. Don't tell me you're gonna miss out on a chance to check that out up close and personal.” Stiles burst.

Derek glanced at the floor, stifling a laugh into a subtle snort.

“Alright, so maybe that's not _exactly_ what you said. It's called hyperbole, Scott. And yeah, I might've been quoting Charlie Sheen." Stiles fidgeted as he waited for Scott to make up his mind, "Really?! You will? Perfect! I love you so much right now. See you in five.” Stiles slipped back out into the reception area, closing the door behind him, and looking pleased with himself, “He's heading down now. Shouldn't take more than five, maybe ten minutes.” 

“Great! Could you have him meet me in the gym? I can just do chin ups or something till he gets there.” Derek brightened, heading a few steps toward the door.

“Uh, sure.” Stiles said, a hint of disappointment coloring his tone, “Not like there's anything to do if you waited around here.” He forced a laugh that came out flat, but Derek didn't seem to notice.

“Thanks. See you around, Stiles.” Derek flashed a little smile and extended his hand in a half-wave as he headed out the door.

Stiles waited till he heard the door close behind Derek, grabbed the mouse that was still hanging uselessly over the edge of the desk and plopped it down on the mousepad. “Not like you could've stayed and oh I dunno... talked!” Stiles maximized the browser window he'd hastily minimized earlier, looking momentarily glad, as if things could have gone worse. “At least he didn't see how completely ridiculous my hobbies are.” he sighed. 

After taking a second to scan the “mythical beasts and legends” forum for new posts, Stiles opened another tab and clicked the bookmark for his favorite search engine, repeatedly muttering Derek's last name under his breath, “Hale. Hale. Why does that sound so familiar?” Stiles' fingers flew over the keyboard, trying various combinations of “Derek Hale”, “Beacon Hills” and “Hale family”. Suddenly his jaw dropped and he pulled his hand across the lower half of his face. “Oh. My god.” Once again fishing his phone from his pocket, Stiles pulled up the dialer and held down the number 2, activating the speed dial, “Dad? Hey! This is Stiles. No, everything's fine. Yeah, hey, um... I was just wondering if you remember anything about a case you worked involving the Hale family about ten years ago. Yeah, yeah, yeah confidential. I know, but... Nothing? Yeaaah, you don't sound like you believe that at all. What you think happened? That's not confidential, is it? Great! Oh no reason. Just … bored at work and found some story about it online. Sure, I can wait a minute. It's really slow today.” Stiles scrolled back up to the top of the article he'd found, stopping to stare at the headline: “Local man shot, killed, assailant unknown”. Stiles blinked repeatedly and took a deep breath, “God. Poor Derek...!” 

“Hey! Where is he? I thought you said he was at the front desk.” Scott asked as he wandered in and looked around the room.

“He was. He told me to have you meet him in the gym. But get this...! Remember how I said his name sounded so familiar?” Stiles frantically started, but his attention was suddenly diverted as a click emanated from his phone followed by the sound of his dad's voice. “Yeah, I'm here. So you were saying?” Stiles held the phone back up to his ear, then pressed the mute button and motioned for Scott to leave, “It's my dad. Just go. This is gonna take a while. I'll tell you later.”

“Seriously?!” Scott whispered incredulously, to which Stiles gave a wide-eyed emphatic nod.

“Yeah, I know, and I really appreciate it, Dad.” Stiles unmuted his phone and quickly responded, skillfully keeping the amount of silence his dad heard to a minimum, waving Scott off more emphatically with every passing second.

“Fine!” Scott hissed, rolling his eyes as he headed for the door and pointing at Stiles as he whispered, “Don't forget!”

Nodding dramatically, Stiles gave Scott a thumbs up, before turning his full attention back to his phone. As the door closed behind Scott and the full sunlight outside forced him to squint, Scott finally headed for the gym, wearing a look of confusion and irritation. “Someone remind me why I agreed to this.” he groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott joins Derek in the gym, helping to spot him on the free weights and finding that they have a bit more to talk about than he'd anticipated.

Derek's biceps and lats flexed and flared impressively as he repeatedly, methodically lowered and raised himself, ensuring his chin cleared the wall-mounted bar the resort had installed in front of a bank of mirrors. He'd already finished two sets while waiting for Scott, but he continued with a third as much for the distraction it provided as for the actual exercise. It had been a couple minutes since he'd last bothered to look at the clock, finding that it only made him anxious and almost seemed to slow the passage of time. 

Still, he reveled in exercises like these: chin ups, pushups, sit ups—anything that forsook the usage of weights and machines in favor of pure and simple motion, pushing and challenging the body itself. Certainly Derek could, and did excel at weight training when put to the test, but relying on machines made it far too easy to make excuses. Regardless of where he found himself, Derek liked to be able to challenge himself and train for whatever surprises life was bound to throw at him, and it showed in the fervor with which he executed each rep. 

When at last Derek heard and smelled Scott at the door, he was already so focused on finishing his third set, he simply continued pushing himself, pumping out another eight reps as Scott stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Quickly catching sight of Derek's movement, Scott's eyebrows shot up to meet the base of his backwards red ball cap as he headed toward him, surprised at how easy the guy made the exercise look. Of their own accord, the corners of his mouth began to drift into a smile of admiration, lips parting slightly as he took in the size and definition of the muscles in Derek's arms and back. “Wow...” Scott breathed inadvertently, causing Derek's focus to waver at last and eliciting a blink along with an almost imperceptible smile. 

His last rep complete, Derek lowered himself again, this time deftly dropping to his feet. “Sorry, what was that?” Derek feigned as he opened and closed his hands two or three times, turning to face Scott, his breath a little ragged as he recovered from his efforts.

“Oh...! Nothing?” Scott grabbed the back of his head through his hat, a soft embarrassed laugh escaping him. “Actually, I might've kinda said 'wow', haha. You totally blasted through those chin ups, man. Not sure I've ever seen anyone make 'em look that easy. You sure you need a spotter?” Scott joked.

Derek stared at Scott inscrutably for a moment, making Scott worry that he'd taken him seriously, when in reality he was wondering if he'd messed things up already.

“Nah, I know you do.” Scott explained uncertainly, “I mean, coach'd threaten to kick you off the team if he ever caught you lifting without a spot. Unless you were a third stringer. Then it was 'fine by him' if you wanted to get yourself crushed by a barbell.”

“Wow. Sounds like some coach.” Derek lowered his brow in a look of disbelief mixed with contempt.

Scott shrugged, “He was only kidding... I think. Kinda hard to tell with him. Anyway, what'd you wanna do first? Bench press?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Derek gave Scott a sideways glance and a subtle smile as he headed toward the free weights, “Thanks for the help, by the way. Stiles told me it's your day off. I'm sure you have better things to do than spot strangers in the gym, so...” Derek trailed off, stopping himself from saying thanks a second time before continuing, “I appreciate it.”

“Well, it's not like you're a total stranger.” Scott laughed, “At least, not if you ask Stiles. He seems to think we might've known you from back home.”

“Really?” Derek paused, the 45-pound plate he'd been preparing to slide onto the barbell instead being held in front of his chest like a steering wheel as he gave Scott an intense look. Finally he pushed the weight onto the bar when the sound of Scott's matching plate sliding against the metal caught his attention, “Actually, I had that feeling too.” Derek's eyes met Scott's, warily searching their warm brown depths for a moment. “Well...” he hesitated, “Not Stiles actually... but you. There's just something really familiar about you. Almost like... no, forget it.” Derek grabbed another weight.

“Like what?” Scott matched the weight Derek had selected, staring at him curiously, “You can't just say something like that and then expect somebody to let it slide.”

“Fine.” Derek glared and exhaled deeply, wearing a look that bordered on nausea, “It's almost like I feel guilty, ok? For not remembering. Like I forgot something... important.” He and Scott slid their weights onto the bar and Derek grabbed one more, saying, “That should do it.”

Scott's eyes widened as he glanced from one end of the barbell to the other, taking in the daunting amount of weight they were piling onto the bar. For a moment his mouth opened slightly as he started and immediately stopped himself from asking Derek if maybe it was a bit too much, assuring himself that the guy seemed to know what he was doing. Instead he slipped the last of the weight onto the bar, following it up with a spring collar to keep the weight from sliding around. “Maybe it's just been too long.” he returned his attention to Derek and their conversation. The distant, frustrated look on Derek's face awoke feelings of concern in Scott, spurring him on, “Or maybe you're trying too hard and later it'll just... come to you.” He moved behind the weight bench as Derek positioned himself beneath the bar

“Yeah, you're probably right.” Derek said, scratching the scruff on his jaw, as he looked up at Scott and the barbell, raising his hands into place.

“Ready?” Scott asked as he shifted uncomfortably, suddenly finding himself taken aback by the way the light in the gym somehow made Derek's eyes look especially green.

“Yeah. On three. One... two... three!” Derek lifted the considerable weight from its resting place, Scott lightly supporting and assisting in the balancing of it as it moved away from the rack, keeping in line with Derek's chest. When Derek had it in the proper position, Scott took his hands from the bar enough to let Derek lower the weight on his own, yet held them close enough to assist if it became necessary. As Derek lowered and raised the weight, however, Scott found his gaze drifting down from the bar and toward Derek's pecs as they pumped and strained at the confines of his undershirt. 

“How many?” Derek grunted, noticing and appreciating Scott's wandering gaze, and finding himself distracted.

“Uh... I lost count.” Scott blushed, returning his gaze to the bar, “Seven, I think?”

“Fine. Three more.” Derek barked, lowering the bar again.

Scott glanced again at Derek's chest, but quickly focused again on the bar and counted its trips from the pinnacle of its range, down to Derek's pecs and back, “Eight... Nine...!” Derek hesitated, struggling for a moment and wondering if he'd perhaps been a touch overzealous in trying to impress Scott. 

“Come on, one more. You've got this!” Scott bellowed in support, holding his hands just beneath the bar, close enough to touch it but not yet providing any lift. Derek clenched his jaw and lowered the bar to his chest, letting Scott's hands brush against his pecs. Inwardly he grinned; Scott's breath had caught in his throat, his heart rate increasing. Maybe Scott did like him after all! The thought gave him fresh strength, allowing him to push through the last rep and rack the weight. “Phew!” Derek panted, his pearly whites making a brief appearance as he lowered his hands and sat up on the bench, “Thanks. Not sure I could've finished that last one if you hadn't helped.”

“Yeah, actually, that was all you.” Scott laughed, grinning as he walked around to the front of the bench, “I was never actually lifting. I still can't believe you did ten reps with that much weight though! And it was probably more like eleven or twelve. Sorry for losing track. Either way, dude, you're a beast!”

Derek flinched unconsciously at the word beast as he turned reflexively to search Scott for any sign that he might know. Unable to find any, he gave a little closed-lipped smile, “I'm guessing you learned that in lacrosse training?” 

“Heh, yeah,” Scott said, taking a seat on the bench next to Derek, “If someone thinks you're helping them, they can usually lift more, like the placebo effect or something.” 

Derek stiffened slightly, startled by Scott's sudden closeness, no matter how welcome. “Makes sense.” he said, inclining his head appraisingly as he realized Scott's heart was still racing compared to what it had been when he'd arrived.

“Ya know... when you were pushing out that last rep...? You kinda looked a little familiar too.” Scott said, looking at the floor, then back up at Derek again, “Weird, huh?”

Derek was starting to smile quizzically, when a pop sounded from the intercom overhead, Stiles' voice filling the room. “Derek Hale... you uh... have an urgent phone call? Please come to the front desk.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Derek headed to the front desk, Scott's left alone to face his feelings. The resulting confusion and frustration leads him to an impromptu workout with the gym's punching bag.

“What the fuck, Stiles?” Scott said to himself, watching through the gym's glass door as Derek strode quickly away, “Timing!” He lifted his hand and dropped it pointlessly against his leg, “That's right, Scott. Put it all on Stiles.” Suddenly finding himself unable to sit still, Scott sprung to his feet, frustration and guilt gnawing at him like a hungry animal. He couldn't help but wish Stiles had just let him keep thinking Derek was creepy. To a lesser extent he still did, but now he also found himself kind of liking the guy, and nothing would shake his best friend's words from yesterday out of his head. All he'd asked was for Scott to leave something for him. What if Stiles really did start to hate him? 

Full of anxious energy, Scott started removing a spring collar from the barbell, only to realize that Derek might want to do another set when he got back. “Dammit! Why the hell'd Stiles have to drag me into this in the first place.” Scott slid the spring collar back into place, then crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting his body weight restlessly from one leg to the other. “I did tell him no dibs on people...” he mumbled, looking aimlessly around the room as he realized he was rationalizing. 

“There we go!” Scott's eyes fell upon the punching bag near the far wall, the old training equipment suddenly looking divine, as if sent from heaven with the sole purpose of serving as an outlet for all his frustration. “Get ready, fucker!” Scott said, heading straight for it with a wicked grin on his face. Scott stepped up to the bag, which was large and heavy, suspended by chains. Despite the generally good condition of the gym, this had clearly taken its share of beatings, its vinyl covering beginning to tear in places. A pair of light boxing gloves lie on the floor next to the worn punching bag, but Scott took no note of them as he twisted at the waist and drew back his fist for a punch. A feeling of release surged through him as he drove his fist into the bag, as if a portion of his anxiety had flowed into it, being consumed and neutralized. The bag didn't care. The bag just took it, and waited for more. 

Scott's smile opened into a grimace of pain as he shook his hand, “Aaahh! You are nowhere near as soft as you look. Scott looked around, finally spotting the gloves and bending over to grab them. Slipping his hands into the padded black synthetic leather, Scott let his feelings of frustration and the anger he felt at himself drift up to the surface, almost focusing on them as he fastened the Velcro strap around his wrist. Again Scott let a fist fly, this time grunting as he thrust not only his momentum into the bag, but also the feelings he was struggling with. “Damn that felt good!” he said, his eyes widening as he took a deep breath and launched a series of blows at the bag.

A few minutes passed and soon Derek returned, stopping just outside the door with his brow furrowed and a scowl darkening his expression. Seeing Scott's efforts at the punching bag, an amused smile brightened Derek's face. “You do _not_ know what you're doing.” he whispered, opening the door and slipping inside unnoticed. Scott was enjoying himself far too much by now, making as though he was bobbing and weaving, dodging blows from his inanimate opponent. 

It was all Derek could do to keep from laughing as he watched Scott dropping his guard, his elbows all over the place rather than low and tight, leaving him open to incoming punches were this a real fight. Derek took a step forward, wondering if maybe he should give Scott some tips, but suddenly he heard the groan of fatigued metal as a link in the bag's chain began to snap. His heart leaping into his throat, he lunged forward, pushing Scott out of the way as the chain broke, whipping back and striking Derek in the face, a jagged piece of metal cutting him across the brow. Scott gasped, falling sideways onto the floor and staring up at Derek as a look of sudden recognition seized him. 

Scrambling to his feet, Scott headed toward the shaken figure of his protector, “I—I remember now... It was you! God, I couldn't have been more than ten...! Hey, are you okay?” he reached reflexively toward the side of Derek's face where the chain had struck him. 

Derek, who had been staring at the floor next to the fallen punching bag, glanced up—a hint of something like longing beginning to flicker in his eyes, only to be extinguished as a mirror allowed him to catch sight of the gash in his eyebrow starting to close up. “Yeah.” Derek turned away, not wanting Scott to see his rapidly healing wound, “I'm fine.” He stiffened, torn between his desire to stay and the necessity of preserving his secret. “I... just need to lie down.” 

Scott put his hand on Derek's shoulder, “At least let me look at it. How bad is it? Should I get a first aid kit or a band-aid or something?”

“I said I'm fine, Scott!” Derek snapped, taking a couple steps toward the door, then softening his tone as he closed the distance and wrapped his fingers around the handle, “Really, it's nothing. Not a scratch. I just really want to lie down. I'll see you later.”

Derek flung open the door and made his way hastily toward his room, leaving a baffled Scott standing alone in the empty gym, staring through the glass as he vanished from sight. “Sure. Later.” Scott said dazedly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for Stiles' shift to end, Scott works himself into a panic worrying about how he's going to tell Stiles about his new feelings for Derek. Stiles and Scott have a good long talk about everything that's been going on.

The foot traffic in the lobby always picked up a bit at this time of day as guests arrived to check in and stragglers stumbled out of their rooms past checkout time trying to avoid being charged for another day. No matter how frantically Scott wished them all away, today's guests were no exception and the comfortable upholstery on the armchair he was waiting in did little to calm his sense of urgency. Every now and then Stiles would shoot him a frustrated or apologetic glance, but before long Scott gave an exaggerated sigh and made his way back to the rooms he and Stiles shared, shoulders slumped in defeat.

When at last Stiles' shift came to an end, he was surprised to discover Scott lying on the living room floor and staring at the ceiling while the sound of some home shopping program droned softly in the background. "Scott?" Stiles quirked an eyebrow in equal parts amusement and concern, only letting his worry getting the better of him when Scott seemed completely oblivious to him having spoken. " **Scott!** " Stiles nudged his best friend in the side with his foot, finally managing to elicit a response in the form of a pained expression taking occupation of Scott's features and his eyes looking up and sideways at him, though otherwise he remained motionless. "Dude, what happened?! Did One Direction break up or something? You're kinda starting to freak me out."

Scott rolled onto his side so he was facing away from Stiles, a long frustrated groan escaping his lips. "Yeah, well... I'm freaking **me** out, so join the club." Scott finally managed after a moment of awkward silence.

Sitting cross-legged behind him, Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder, "Whoa, okay then. I recognize that groan. It's that serious huh? What is **up** with you? Come on, man! You can tell me." Several seconds passed with no response. "You're my best friend, Scott. You **know** you can tell me anything. God! I mean we're practically brothers! If you can't tell me, then who can you tell?" Stiles began to shake Scott by the shoulder.

Scott rolled back onto his back and looked up at Stiles, searching his eyes for an answer to his unspoken question. "Alright, but as my best friend you have to promise not to hate me." Scott reached up and grabbed Stiles by the arm, an imploring yet playful look on his face.

"I promise nothing." Stiles replied, poker-faced, causing Scott to look momentarily injured. "Jeezus, Scott!" Stiles dropped onto his side, pulling Scott into as close to a bear hug as he could manage in the awkward position, "Nothing is ever gonna make me hate you. I can't believe you don't know that by now. Now just **tell** me!" he released Scott from his hug, staring at him in anticipation.

"I... well... I remembered something about Derek. You were right, Stiles. We did know him. At least... I did. A long time ago." Scott sat up, his voice laced with intensity.

"Well of course I was right, but I fail to see how that would make me hate you." Stiles gave a little shake of his head and a scoff.

"I like him, Stiles. Well, kind of. At least I think so. It was all so confusing." Scott rambled in frustration, "I'm sorry, Stiles, I just couldn't help it. But I still think there's something weird about him. You should've seen the way he bolted when I tried to help him after he got hurt in the gym."

"Wait—rewind—he got hurt in the gym? How the hell did that happen?" Stiles blinked and latched onto the easiest of Scott's revelations to deal with, swallowing the lump in his throat that had begun to develop when he heard Scott's initial declaration.

"Yeah, Stiles." Scott replied, "He got hurt saving me. I was knocking the crap out of that big old punching bag after you called him to the front desk and the chain snapped..."

"Holy shit!" Stiles interrupted, blinking repeatedly, his eyebrows raised in surprise, "Are you okay!?"

"What? Yeah! That's what I'm trying to tell you! He pushed me out of the way, almost like he knew it was gonna happen, and then when the chain snapped it hit him instead of me. Wait, you don't think he's psychic or something, do you?"

Stiles' mouth was hanging slightly open by now, "Psychic? No way. Well, I dunno! Maybe? But how bad was he hurt? Like "sue the resort" bad or "grab a band-aid" bad?"

"That's just it!" Scott started, "When I tried to get a look at it, he got all angry and said he just wanted to go lie down. I thought I saw blood but I was kinda distracted, so..."

"Wow, and I thought **I** had ADD." Stiles quipped.

"Shut up, it's not like I just saw something shiny! Y'know how I said I'd remembered something about Derek?" Scott didn't wait for a response, plowing ahead having barely taken time to breathe, "Well when Derek pushed me out of the way, that's when I remembered. It was so clear—like I was 10 again. I was walking home from school, playing some stupid game on my GBA and not even watching where I was going. The next thing I knew some older kid was tackling me and this massive tree branch was crashing into the spot where I'd been standing. My GBA never worked again, but I don't even wanna think what would've happened if he hadn't pushed me out of the way. I never got to thank him, or even ask what his name was, you know. When I tried, he just said he was late for something and ran off... kind like he did today, actually."

"Huh. I always wondered how you broke your GBA." Stiles mumbled.

"So... you don't believe me then." Scott said, looking disappointed but unsurprised.

"No, no... I do, I really do. It's just a lot to take in, okay?" Stiles nudged Scott with his shoulder, "Like what are the odds of some tree branch randomly crashing down on your head for no reason?"

"Hahaha..." Scott flushed with embarrassment, clutching the back of his head and looking away, "It wasn't exactly random. There miiight've been a maintenance crew trimming branches with chainsaws and making a ton of noise. But I was so wrapped up in my game I was totally oblivious, and I guess they didn't see me." Scott shrugged, giving Stiles a sideways glance to gauge his reaction.

"Well that explains why you never told me, at least. Kinda reminds me of that time we were on our bikes and you were so busy talking to me you crashed into a telephone pole. I gave you crap about that for years." Stiles chuckled, then grinned, "Wait! So... if I hadn't called Derek to the front desk, you might never have remembered all that, right? Sounds like you owe me." Stiles quirked an eyebrow mischievously.

"That reminds me! I can't believe I almost forgot to ask!" Scott blurted, "What was that urgent phone call business all about? And weren't you going to tell me something about why Derek's name sounded familiar?"

Stiles rubbed his temples and groaned, "Ugh... it's bad, Scott. We were too young to really remember, but it was all over the news. Derek's dad was killed when he was 16. Shot. Repeatedly. And they never found the killer. All I could get out of my dad was that the wounds were tainted with aconite, and that Victoria Argent was one of the suspects. That's Allison's **mom** in case you forgot. But she was eventually cleared."

"Oh my god!" Scott gasped, a look of genuine sadness on his face, "Poor Derek! No wonder he seems so serious most of the time. But what's aconite, some kind of poison? Why would you need to poison a gun wound?"

"Yeah! See, I was wondering the same thing, so I did some research." Stiles began, "Aconite, also known as monkshood or wolfsbane, was used in China in small doses in herbal medicine, mostly as a painkiller. But you're right, it's also been used as a poison. Either way though, it doesn't make sense, considering the number of times he was shot. I guess someone must've really wanted him dead. The alternative is just too weird."

"What do you mean?" Scott frowned.

"I mean Twilight and True Blood kinda shit. Like I said, weird." Stiles replied, shaking his head dismissively.

"Oh..." Scott said, nodding, "But why the hell would Allison's mom have been a suspect? They must've thought she had a motive, right?"

"Dunno. Not sure it matters, either. She apparently had an airtight alibi. And it's not exactly something we can ask Derek about." Stiles replied.

"Yeah, **I** don't even wanna think about it, so I can't imagine he does." Scott winced, "Speaking of which, can we talk about something else? How about that phone call you paged Derek for? What exactly was so urgent?"

"Well, I couldn't really make out what they were talking about. She said she was Derek's sister though, and she sounded pissed. All I really heard was the name "Taylor", and then Derek looked like he'd been punched in the gut. The last thing he said was something like, "I'll be careful."

"Wow... maybe that's why he left in such a hurry." Scott said, almost to himself, "'I'll be careful?' I hope he's not in any trouble."

"Well that could mean just about anything. Maybe his sister was just telling him to drive safely or something." Stiles replied, "Probably nothing to worry about."

"Yeah. Besides, you should've seen how much the guy can bench! He can clearly take care of himself." Scott chuckled.

"You mean he can take care of his man-crush!" Stiles taunted, a hint of jealousy buried in his tone, "Guess I can't blame you for liking him, huh? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride."

"What?! Man-crush?!" Scott laughed, "Shuddup!" Scott stuck his tongue out at Stiles before adding, "Does this mean you're not mad at me?"

Stiles sighed heavily, before a mischievous grin crept over his face, "I could never stay mad at you, Scott, baby! Now c'mere and gimme a big kiss!" Stiles lunged at Scott making exaggerated kissy noises, his arms outstretched.

"NO! Get away!" Scott laughed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Stiles before jumping to his feet and running away.

"There's no use in running, my love!" Stiles called out as he darted after him, right on his heels. Before long the two were wrestling on the kitchen floor, exchanging noogies and generally wearing themselves out with various holds.

"Let's order a pizza." Scott suggested, his voice sounding rather strangled thanks to the headlock Stiles had him in.

"We're already in the kitchen and you wanna order out?" Stiles teased, releasing his arm from around Scott's neck.

"Okay..." Scott scrambled to his feed, opened the fridge and peered inside, "Let's have pickles and expired milk."

"I have an idea." Stiles smirked, "Let's order a pizza... or maybe two."

Scott shook his head and let out a snort of laughter as he took out his cell and pulled up the number for their favorite pizza joint, placing an order for one large cheese and one large pepperoni.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott drops by to see Derek only to find him packed and ready to leave.

The morning of the following day found Derek rushing around his room in a sullen, frustrated funk. His room, in its state of disarray, perfectly matched how he had felt for the past several hours—confused, chaotic and conflicted. It had taken him all afternoon and a late night phone call to his sister to finally convince himself that he couldn't stay. The chance that Scott had seen the rapid healing of his wound was too great and even more disturbingly, there was the matter of Taylor grilling his family for his current whereabouts. Somehow despite all this, a large part of him wanted to stay. The more aware he became of that desire, however, the louder and more insistent another, far more perplexing part of him became, and that increasingly vocal facet of his being found the thought of anything happening to Scott because of him completely unbearable.

Aside from his sudden impending departure, there was another reason for the mess Derek had made of his room. He was otherwise packed and ready to go, except for one minor detail. He couldn't find his phone anywhere. He'd stripped all the bedding from the mattress and thrown it in a corner, removed the cushions from the couch and rummaged around inside, leaving the cushions on the floor. He'd even taken everything out of his bag and gone through all his pockets, then packed it all back in again. But after all that, the only thing he had to show for it was some loose change and a stale cheese puff he'd found inside the couch.

“Damn it!” Derek cursed, slamming his fist into his bag in frustration. As if in response, there came a knock at the door, startling him out of his internal debate over which was riskier: lingering too long or leaving it—and his entire contact list—for Taylor to find. Derek focused on the door, wondering who it was and if he should answer it. The knock came again, persistent yet still casual. That was definitely not Taylor's knock, and more importantly, he was sure he could smell Scott on the other side. Derek sprang to his feet, unlocking the door.

“Derek! Hey! You weren't still asleep, were you? I can come back later...” Scott hesitated as Derek stared at him in surprised unresponsiveness.

“No! No, I was just... packing.” Derek forced himself to speak, refusing to show any sign of the conflicting emotions that welled up inside him at the sight of Scott in the doorway.

“ **Packing?!** ” Scott inadvertently shouted, “But why?! Stiles said your reservation was for the whole week!” He felt his cheeks flush as he instantly regretted his words, realizing that Derek might now suspect he'd been asking about him. Looking away, Scott caught a glimpse of the room's interior, his eyebrows raising, “Whoa. Looks more like a tornado... Glad I'm not housekeeping!” Scott gave a nervous laugh, hoping he'd diverted Derek's attention away from what he'd said.

Derek looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening at how bad it must look. “Oh. That. I've been looking for my phone.” It was Derek's turn to blush now, “I can't find it anywhere. But don't worry, I left a good tip for the cleaning staff. I'm not a **complete** asshole.” He gestured toward a table where he'd left the small pile of coins he'd found in the sofa, along with a few bills from his own pocket.

“Oh. Then I guess I don't need to feel bad for housekeeping after all.” Scott grinned, “Well, do you want me to call it for you? Your phone, that is.”

Derek's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline and his eyes rolled in disgust at himself, “Wait, why the hell didn't I try that?” Derek put a hand on Scott's back, guiding him through the door and into the room before walking over to the phone on the nightstand and dialing the number for his cell. “Help me look?” he turned his slightly pleading gaze upon Scott as the muffled sound of his cell's generic ringtone started to emanate from seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Sure!” Scott barely managed to shut the door behind him, quirking an eyebrow as a thought struck him, “Wait a second. Help me move the bed away from the wall.”

“I already checked...” Derek started to say, stopping himself as he realized that the sound was indeed coming from that direction, “Okay, on three.”

As they lifted and pulled, the heavy bed slid away from the wall, leaving the large, decorative wooden headboard bolted to the wall. To Derek's surprise, resting upon the lower edge of the headboard's decorative trim, the familiar screen of his phone flashed with the incoming call. “How did you know to look there?” Derek asked incredulously.

“You'd be surprised how many people lose their phones here.” Scott chuckled in reply, his adorably genuine, friendly smile lighting up both his face and Derek's mood.

“Well thanks.” Derek couldn't help but return Scott's smile, “By the way, wasn't there something you wanted?”

“Oh! Right!” Scott looked at his feet, jarred by being so suddenly brought back to the reason he'd come, “I... well, I just wanted to thank you for pushing me out of the way when that punching bag broke last night. It seemed like that chain hit you pretty hard but it looks like maybe it wasn't so bad after all. When you rushed out like that though... never mind. What matters is that you know I'm grateful... and not just for yesterday but the first time.”

“Oh, you remembered that too?” Derek's eyes met Scott's, as if something were being exchanged between them in the moment of realization that they had both recalled what had happened all those years ago. “I don't need you to thank me Scott.” Derek inhaled deeply, “Just don't make a habit of it, okay? I can't **always** be around to protect you.” He offered Scott a smile that was equal parts playfulness and concern.

“Believe it or not, I don't always walk around with a giant target on my head.” Scott smirked, “Besides, Stiles has got my back most of the time. It's too bad you're leaving though. The hotel is throwing a big luau party tomorrow and I was kinda hoping maybe you'd be there. They're making us dress up in grass skirts and leis and everything.”

One of Derek's eyebrows quirked involuntarily upward, only for his face to fall back into another gloomy expression, “Look, I'd love to, Scott, but...” Derek suddenly looked pained and tired, “It seems like whenever I'm around, you end up in danger. I'm really not sure it's safe for you to be around me.”

“What? **That's** why you're leaving?!” Scott snapped, his eyes wide with disbelief, “But that's stupid! You've only ever kept me **out** of danger!”

“You don't know what you're talking about Scott.” Derek frowned, “I'm just not a safe person to be around, okay? You wouldn't be the first person to get hurt because of me, and I'm not going to risk it.”

“Okay, yeah. I don't know what you're talking about, because I only know the Derek who's made sure I **didn't** get hurt! And besides, what do you mean, ' **you're** not gonna risk it?'" Scott scoffed, "If this is about me, shouldn't **I** get a say in this?"

Derek closed his eyes and exhaled, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Forget it. I'm sorry. Maybe that was out of line. If you want to leave, it's not really my place to stop you." Scott lowered his gaze and then shifted uncomfortably, "I mean, you hardly know me. It's just... maybe I wanted to get to know you better. That and the fact that if you leave now it'll probably be another ten years before I see you again." He forced a little mischievous smile and gave Derek a sideways glance.

Derek in turn gave a little laugh that resolved into a surprised, contented smile and a lingering look of curiosity in his eyes, "Well, it's been ten years already, what's another ten gonna hurt?"

"Me?" Scott chuckled.

"I'm being serious Scott. You'd be fine, right?" Derek worried.

"I..." Scott squirmed, grimacing slightly as he suddenly appeared lost in thought, "Actually, I'm not so sure I would be. After what happened in the the gym yesterday... I'm not sure what it is exactly that I'm feeling for you, but yeah, I do think it might hurt if you go."

Derek's eyebrows lifted, his lips parting slightly and a mixture of hope, pain and joy in his eyes. Quickly he turned away, taking a couple steps in the opposite direction in order to regain his composure. "Look Scott, I don't know how to put this but..." Derek turned around, his eyes locking on Scott's, full of intensity and concern, "I got mixed up with someone that's not such a good person and people around me tend to end up getting hurt, and I'm not just just talking about feelings kind of hurt. I thought I left that behind in New York, but now I'm not so sure it stayed there."

Scott blinked and furrowed his brow, "Wow. Well, what if that person does follow you here, and you've already left? You seem to think I've got a giant target on my head. Wouldn't I be safer if you were still here?"

Derek's jaw clenched, his eyebrows flicking upward momentarily, "Huh, valid point. I hadn't thought of that."

"So does that mean you'll stay, or do I have to rely on Stiles to watch my back?" Scott smirked.

"Well when you put it that way, I think I'm definitely gonna have to stay." Derek placed a hand on Scott's shoulder, his eyes widening at the thought of Stiles facing off against Taylor.

"Great!" Scott grinned, his breath catching in his throat at the distracting warmth of Derek's hand, "In that case, do you want some help putting the place back together?"

Looking around again at the mess he'd made, Derek let out an exasperated little laugh, "Sure you wouldn't mind?"

"No way. It's the least I could do." Scott smiled, leaning over and picking up a nearby couch cushion, "But you have to promise to come to the luau tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure." Derek smiled, picking up another one of the cushions as he tried to shake the fresh image of Scott in a grass skirt from his mind, "I think I can manage that."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek visits the resort's gift shop to find something to wear to the luau, at which Scott and Stiles are both working.

"Snow globes? No, I'm afraid we don't carry any." Derek tried to tune out the sound of the resort gift shop's cashier as she tended to a guest, "We have some California refrigerator magnets, if you're looking for a souvenir."

"Nonono. It has to be a snow globe." the older woman replied, clearly frustrated, "You see, it's a tradition. Every time we vacation in a state we haven't been to before, we have to find the right snow globe to add to our collection."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. There's a souvenir shop a few miles from here if you don't mind a little drive. I could give you directions..." the cashier trailed off as the older woman started expressing her frustration in earnest. 

Derek rolled his eyes, flicking with newfound speed and determination through the racks of swimwear near the shop's entrance. Settling at last on a pair of blue and white Hawaiian-style board shorts, Derek snatched the hanger from the rack and headed toward the register.

"Sorry to interrupt..." Derek flashed his most charming smile, hoping to spare both himself and the poor sales associate her customer's rant, "...but could you ring this up for me? I'm kind of in a hurry."

" _Thank you!_ " the cashier mouthed at Derek while the old lady turned to gape at him, clearly trying to determine whether or not she should chastise him for his impertinence. "Is this for our luau tonight? Not sure why, but they always go all out for it. They actually bring in... wait, no... don't wanna spoil it for you."

"I'm not really all that big on surprises, but thanks." Derek chuckled as he handed the shorts over and made note of the sales associate's nametag, "And yeah, I've already got some shorts I could wear but they're a little plain for a luau. How much do I owe you, Melanie?"

"53.98." Melanie pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and answered as she handed the shorts back to Derek with a smile, "I'm actually off in time to go this year. Maybe I'll see you there?"

"Sure." Derek forced himself to return the smile, inwardly grimacing as he gave her sixty dollars from his wallet, "I'll keep an eye out for you."

"Great! Guess I'll see you later then." Melanie let her hand linger a bit longer than necessary as she handed Derek his change.

"Right. Later." Derek gritted his teeth as he continued to force himself to smile, shoving his change into his pocket and offering a quick wave as he headed for the door.

"Shameful." the old lady shook her head, giving Melanie a knowing look, "Just shameful."

Turning the corner, Derek made his way down the hall and into the lobby, heading for the back door. Once he was sure he was out of hearing range, his pace slowed to a pause, an exaggerated sigh escaping him, "Just what I needed, someone else to worry about tonight." Derek tilted his head back and took a long, deep breath, exhaling through his nose and continuing on his way back to his room.

-

Derek stood in front of his mirror in a light, airy, white shirt with clean, simple embroidered detail running down either side of the open front. His new swim trunks complemented the cut and color of the shirt but he couldn't help checking for the third time to make sure he'd removed all the tags. Looking at the alarm clock, he gave a groan. Technically the luau wasn't scheduled to start for another twenty minutes, but he'd already showered and even trimmed the excessive scruff he'd grown over the past several days down to something more presentable. 

"Close enough." he huffed, grabbing his room key and slipping it into his pocket, "I'll just walk down to the beach or something." Derek opened the door and closed it behind him, double checking to make sure it was locked.

Once he'd made his way down to the pool area, Derek couldn't help but pause on his route to the beach in order to take in the sight of all the banners, fish nets, tiki torches, fresh orchids, hyacinths and plumeria the resort had brought in for the event. Using white plastic chains the staff had fenced off an area near the main food service cabana to keep guests from getting in the way of preparations, a couple of signs that read "closed for event" reinforcing the effort. A corner of his mouth pulled upward slightly as Derek realized that the longer he lingered the less he was looking at the decorations and the more he was searching for Scott. Laughing at himself, he shook his head and started moving toward the shore again.

"Derek! Hey! You made it!" Scott's voice called excitedly as he appeared near the side of the cabana wearing a grass skirt, a feathery green-leaved haku lei around his head and a long white flower lei that made the amber glow of his bronzed skin positively sing.

Derek blinked, his eyes widening as the memory of that first glimpse of Scott's shirtless figure raced across his mind, trying and failing to compete with the exquisite perfection [alt: fantasy, spectacle, vision, dream?] that now stood smiling before him. Clenching his jaw reflexively and reminding himself to breathe, Derek steeled himself, "I said I'd be here. What, didn't believe me?"

"I had my doubts." Scott laughed, placing a large bowl of dark purple Hawaiian sweet potatoes on a beautifully seashell and orchid decorated table that was nearly full of steaming dishes of food that smelled mouth-wateringly delicious. Already there was salmon, baked mahi-mahi, kalua pork, taro rolls and a massive fruit arrangement. "You do realize you're early though, right?" Scott teased as he turned to face Derek properly, his eyebrows ascending into the leaves across his forehead and his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Derek's massive chest and the deeply etched ravines that separated each of his abs. It was a wonder that Derek's skin didn't show the slightest bit of redness or sunburn after the amount of sun he'd gotten the other day, nor even the tan he might've expected, but somehow Scott didn't mind. On the contrary, the sculpted flesh exposed by Derek's open shirt looked flawless and athletic in defiance of his fair complexion, and the stark contrast it provided his near-black hair and vibrant green eyes bordered on overwhelming. 

"Am I?" Derek replied, breaking Scott's moment of reverie.

"Are you what?" Scott blinked, visibly flustered at having forgotten what they were talking about.

"Early." Derek laughed, "You were saying that I was early."

"Oh that! Yeah, the luau doesn't start for at least fifteen minutes." Scott laughed.

"Well, considering the view from where I'm standing, I think maybe I could've stood to get here a little sooner." Derek gave Scott a playful grin.

Scott felt a rush of warmth flood his face as his cheeks flushed, "Well since you're here, I might as well give you something. Hold on a sec." Scott bent over, his head and shoulders disappearing under the tablecloth as he fished around inside a cardboard box hidden beneath. Scott reappeared with a big, dopey grin and a blue and white flower lei that matched Derek's shorts. "Whaddaya think? Good match, huh?! C'mere!" Scott stepped forward to the plastic chain that separated them, holding the lei in front of him.

Derek smiled and stared at Scott inscrutably for a moment before joining him near the makeshift fence and inclining his head toward him, close enough to feel his heat and be enveloped by his scent. 

"I'm glad you came." Scott slipped the lei over Derek's head, then gave him a smirk, "I mean, seriously, no one's ever made our gift shop's shorts look anywhere near that good before."

Derek gave a snort of a laugh, "You recognized 'em huh?"

"Of course! I actually have a pair in a different col..." Scott stopped midsentence, "Shit! I'm supposed to be done putting the food out by now and Carie's on her way over! What the hell's taking Stiles so long anyway? You wouldn't, uh... be willing to help me get the rest of the food out here would you?"

"Like I said before," Derek placed a hand on Scott's shoulder in mock seriousness, "The last thing I want is to get you in trouble."

Scott rolled his eyes and laughed, "Great! This way, quick!" Scott hurried Derek around the cabana and down a small service path that lead into the main building. Moments later the two had returned with a large tray in each hand, ready to round out the tantalizing spread with the last of the missing dishes.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, Scott?!" a horrified, angry voice yelled as they put down the food, "Who is this? Are you seriously roping **guests** into helping you? You should already be done here!"

"And I am ... now! I'm sorry, Carie." Scott bit his lip before launching into a wide-eyed explanation, "Carie, this is Derek. Derek, Carie. He's not a guest. Well, he is. But he's also an old friend from back home." Scott gave Derek a sideways glance as he continued, "And anyway, Stiles hasn't shown up since we went to change our clothes, so I was running a bit behind. Derek just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Or wrong time, depending on how you look at it, I guess."

"Good to meet you." Derek offered a handshake which the frazzled manager hesitantly accepted, "Don't worry. Scott and I haven't seen each other in years, so I'm happy to help."

"Fine." Carie huffed, "As long as you really are done. The party's starting any minute now. Just make sure your friend doesn't handle any liquor; the boss would never let me hear the end of it. And go find Stiles! Didn't he specifically ask to work this event?!" The lovely but obviously overworked woman stormed off, calling over her shoulder, "You're in charge until I get back. I've got to go check on the hula dancers. Make sure everybody gets a lei!"

"Yes ma'am!" Scott barked, stifling a snort and giving Derek a conspiratorial glance, "Sorry about that... guess I'd better go look for Stiles."

"No problem." Derek said, his gaze fixed on the cabana, "And FYI, I don't think you're gonna need to look very hard. I'm pretty sure he's hiding over there."

"Hiding? What? Why would he be..." Scott started.

"Is she gone?" Stiles' voice drifted out from behind the cabana.

"Um. Yes?" Scott's tone dripped with incredulity, "What the hell, Stiles? Get over here! I looked everywhere for you! Where've you been?"  
  
"You don't understand!" Stiles moaned, "I look... ridiculous."

"Oh come on. It can't be that bad." Scott retorted, "Just come out already. I'm sure you look fine."

Stiles peeked around the corner, a leafy green haku lei like Scott's encircling his head. Hesitantly he stepped clear of the building, his arms crossed defensively across his chest, crushing his white lei against his equally white skin.

"I **knew** it!" Scott called, "You look **fine**! Cute even! What did I tell you!?"

"Seriously?" Stiles started unfolding his arms, uncovering a fit body and alabaster skin, dotted here and there with the same adorable little moles that adorned his face, "'Cause I think these flowers might even have a better tan than I do."

"Don't tell me **that's** why I had to put the rest of this food out by myself." Scott grabbed the back of his head with both hands and threw his head back in frustration, "You're lucky Derek showed up when he did!"

"Well not **just** that. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to put sunblock on your own back." Stiles reached his arms behind his back by way of demonstration as he joined them at the table.

"What do you need sunblock for this late in the afternoon?" Scott laughed and punched Stiles in the arm softly, "It's way too late to get a sunburn!"

"Oh you'd be surprised what my skin is capable of." Stiles said with a nod as he started moving the signs and plastic chains aside, noticing the first guests arriving and eager to grab any excuse to move somewhat out of sight.

"Hey, if you're gonna hang out over there, you're on lei duty." Scott grabbed a large, flat-bottomed basket from under the table, filling it with leis and tossing it in Stiles' direction.

"Fine by me!" Stiles said, catching the basket and grabbing armfuls of leis in an attempt to cover himself while selecting some to give to the first guests who were rapidly approaching, "Aloha! Welcome to paradise!" Stiles slipped a lei over the head of a white-haired older woman, "Please help yourself to something to eat!" He gestured toward the table and readied another lei, "Aloha, welcome!"

"Aloha!" Scott offered a dazzling smile as the woman approached the table, "If you have any special drink requests just let me know, and I'll be happy to help." He shot a covertly surprised and amused look at Derek who had already grabbed a plate of food and moved aside in order to evade the irritable woman who he recognized from the gift shop. 

Soon the parasol-shaded tables and chairs, temporary dining tables and even lounge chairs were full of happy vacationers, buzzing with conversation and bursting with oohs and ahhs from the delectable food the resort had provided for the occassion. Scott couldn't have been more relieved when Carie arrived with two female coworkers, setting them to work taking drink orders. Despite the availability of complimentary assorted tropical fruit drinks, the special menu of luau cocktails had proven to be more than popular and reinforcements were a welcome sight.

Having finished off his food, Derek drifted toward the outer edge of the crowd, dividing his attention between Scott's charismatic interactions with the guests and the live Hawaiian music that drifted over from the movable stage that had been erected between the beach and the pool area, lending the performances the perfect ocean backdrop. As the sun began to set and the tiki torches were lit, Derek felt a tap on his shoulder, "Hey you!"

Derek whirled around, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wide until he recognized the face of the girl from the gift shop. "Oh, hey. Melanie, right? Sorry about that." Derek's muscles relaxed from the taut and ready state the surprise had given him, "I told you I'm not big on surprises." Derek forced a little laugh. 

"Wow, you really weren't kidding!" Melanie blinked, her blue eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter. "I guess I should be the one apologizing."

Derek looked away, trying to smile but mostly failing, "No. Don't worry about it. I'm just not big on crowds."

"Hey, I didn't catch your name earlier." Melanie smiled, trying to lighten the mood, "Not exactly fair, don't ya think?"

Derek gave Melanie a look that was a mixture of amusement and confusion, "Derek. The name's Derek."

"Well, Derek..." Melanie offered her hand as if she expected him to kiss it, "I'm very pleased to meet you. And I never got to thank you properly for saving me from that customer, so... thank you." A flirtatious smile spread across her face.

Derek quirked an eyebrow incredulously and brusquely shook her hand, much to Melanie's obvious disappointment, "Nice to meet you too. And again, don't worry about it." Derek frowned sternly, "Seriously though, it was like she thought if she yelled at you long enough you'd just create a snowglobe for her out of thin air." His frown dissolved into a snarky smirk.

Melanie gave an exaggerated laugh, grabbing Derek's arm as if for support. Derek inadvertently rolled his eyes and then inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, turning his head toward the stage as Scott's manager took the microphone in an attempt to get everyone's attention for an announcement. Apparently nightfall signaled the start of the evening's main entertainment as both male and female dancers took the stage behind Carie who introduced them to the cheering crowd. 

Once their introduction was complete, the nine stunning men and women began to perform a traditional kahiko-style hula dance, eliciting enthusiatic catcalls from several intoxicated women in the audience, most of whom had never seen male hula dancers before. The fact that the men wore similarly revealing attire to that of Scott and Stiles only exacerbated the problem. By comparison, the male members of the audience were almost sedate, perhaps due to the comparitively modest black strapless dresses and elaborate waist-length seashell necklaces worn by the female dancers. 

Even with Melanie pressing up against him, Derek soon found himself relaxing a bit and enjoying himself as they performed a variety of routines that ranged from fast-paced, frantic and provocative to graceful, flowing and serene. By now, most of the guests had gathered by the stage, mostly leaving Scott and the other attendants alone by the buffet table. 

"Scott! What the hell are you standing around here for?!" Stiles appeared next to Scott, seemingly from out of nowhere, "Did you not **see** who's putting the moves on Derek, or do you actually **want** him to end up in bed with Melanie DiAngelo?"

"What?!" Scott gaped, "Melanie? Gift shop Melanie? No way. Derek's got way too much on his mind for random hookups right now."

"Oh really!?" Stiles dragged Scott by the arm to an opening in the crowd through which Scott could plainly see Melanie leaning against Derek like she'd known him all her life, "Then explain that, smart guy!"

"You don't really think Derek would go for Melanie, do you?" Scott wrinkled his brow.

"I don't know, but if I were you I'd get over there and do something, quick!" Stiles stared intensely at his best friend, "But if you don't, I will—so get your ass over there and **do** something!"

"Alright, alright!" Scott caved, a look of panic beginning to take over his expression, "Like what?!"

Stiles looked around, spotting a freshly prepared piña colada sitting on the bar of the cabana, "Take this." Stiles grabbed the frozen beverage in one hand and Scott's shoulder in the other, "Take it and... cool him off, if you know what I mean."

"What? I am **not** spilling that on him, if that's seriously what you're suggesting." Scott looked appalled.

"Okay, maybe you'd rather watch them make out, then!" Stiles' mouth hung open in disbelief as he once again directed Scott's attention to Melanie, who had taken Derek's hand and was starting to give him her very best come-hither look, the blazing light of several fire poi illuminating her face as the next group of performers began their dance.

"Give me the drink." Scott said, his jaw clenching reflexively.

"Atta boy!" Stiles said, nodding dramatically, "Go get 'im."

Carefully making his way through the increasingly excited crowd, Scott slowly approached Derek, drink in hand, "Ahem!" Scott feigned clearing his throat in an attempt to get Derek's attention, "Sir?"

Derek gratefully took the opportunity to disentangle himself from the now scowling blonde girl and turned to face Scott, clearly torn between amusement and confusion, "Sir? Really?" 

"Um... sorry it took so long, but I brought you the drink you ordered. Kinda lost you in the crowd." Scott anxiously said as he took a step forward, pretending to trip on a discarded yet mostly full bottled water, sending delicious pineapple juice and coconut cream flying from its decorative daiquiri glass and onto Derek's shorts and abs.

Derek gasped, exhaling sharply, blinking and shaking his head in shock, "Damn, that's cold!" He started using his hand in an attempt to brush the icy liquid from his skin and furrowing his brow in confusion at Scott.

"I am SO sorry, sir!" Scott exclaimed, suddenly having to strain keep a straight face, "Please, let me get you a towel and another drink. Or if you'd prefer, you can come with me and I'll give you your money back and a credit to your room for the dry cleaning bill."

"Yeah, I think I've had enough cold drinks for one day." Derek shot him a knowing glance, "I think I'll just take the money. And the towel. Especially the towel."

"If you'll just follow me?" Scott said, turning and leaving Melanie gaping in his wake as Derek headed after him, licking his fingers clean and raising his eyebrows in surprise at how good they tasted. In the distance, Stiles snorted with laughter and pretended to busy himself with rearranging the remaining food on the nearby table.

"You know you didn't have to do that, right?" Derek said once they were out of earshot, turning his head to look at Scott as they walked toward one of the smaller cabanas.

"Sorry?" Scott smiled and tilted his head, feigning innocence and confusion, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." An adorable mischievous grin spread across his face as he led Derek through a half-door into the unlit cabana interior, the tiki lamps and the fire poi their only source of light. 

Derek rolled his eyes and gave Scott a playful glare, "Right. Now about that towel...?" Derek grinned and shook his head, "Seriously though, thanks... but I think I can rescue myself from **one** intensely forward girl."

"Wait... you mean you weren't...?" Scott gaped, his eyes narrowing, "Stiiiiles! I am gonna kick your ass."

"Don't tell me you guys actually thought I was interested in that girl!" Derek laughed briefly, a look of seriousness suddenly washing over him, "Scott, were you..."

"Don't even **think** of saying it." Scott closed his lips tightly, daring Derek with his eyes.

Derek raised his brows, and lifted his hands defensively.

"Alright, maybe I was." Scott lowered his head as he opened a cabinet and pulled a clean dishcloth from the top of a stack, unfolding it and pressing it hesitantly against Derek's wet, sticky abs, "A **little**."

Derek's eyes moistened slightly as the words sunk in, magnifying the touch of Scott's fingertips as they moved the cloth across his skin, his eyes shaded by the lei he still wore around his head. "Scott..." Derek trailed off, gently lifting Scott's chin until the quavering light of the not-so-distant spinning flames shone in his deep brown eyes."

"Yeah...?" Scott said, the cloth slipping as his fingers started drifting away from the soft fabric in favor of Derek's firm abs.

"Nothing." Derek pushed back the swelling flood of happiness Scott had triggered, focusing instead on the slightly more manageable intesity that was born of the feeling of Scott's hands against his skin, "Just... you... well, I think you missed a spot."

"I did?" Scott smiled up at Derek, a hint of mishchief working its way across his face.

"Yeah," Derek exhaled deeply, "right there." He pointed at his chest, where a few stray drops actually had splattered.

"Here?" Scott positively grinned as his fingers worked the cloth up across Derek's body to his heaving chest, which he couldn't help but note was essentially already clean.

Derek nodded, an inaudible gasp escaping him as Scott's fingers brushed across one of his nipples, "I think there's a little..." Derek reached toward his neck but found his thought cut short, his head swimming in a burst of sensations as suddenly Scott's mouth was on his, the words he had thought so important a moment earlier consumed and silenced by Scott's lips. Scott's scent engulfed him. Scott's breath caressed his face, his arms slipping inside Derek's shirt and around his back, drawing him closer. Derek clutched Scott's shoulders, his tongue finding Scott's tongue and reveling in the electric sensation that raced through him as they circled one another. 

"I'm sorry." Scott broke the kiss abruptly, his breath coming hard and his heart racing, "I probably shouldn't have done that." His hands loosened their grip on Derek's back as he began to pull away.

"Scott..." Derek pleaded, a soft laugh escaping him as he pulled Scott close, "You don't have to apologize. That was... incredible."

"Yeah?!" Scott grinned in excited relief, kissing Derek again and delighting in the feeling of his scruff against his face, "There's more where that came from."

"Not that I'm complaining," Derek laughed, "But don't you need to get back to work?"

"Shit, shit, shit!" Scott exclaimed, suddenly slipping free of Derek's arms, "Yes. I do. I totally do. But Derek... your shorts! You look like you... well you kinda look like you pissed yourself."

Derek looked down at the soaked blue and white floral pattern of his new shorts, his eyes widening for a moment, "Wow, I really do..."

"I have an idea. Wait here." Scott hurried through the half-door, running off in the direction of Stiles and the buffet table. Moments later he returned, grinning as he clutched something behind his back, "You're not gonna like it... but I am." 

Derek furrowed his brow in anticipation, a groan escaping his lips and his head rolling dramatically to one side as Scott produced an extra grass skirt from behind him. 

"Lose the shirt, or it'll look weird." Scott's grin broadened.

Derek shook his head as he slipped out of his shirt and swapped it for the proffered skirt, tying it around his waist.

"Wow." Scott said, practically staring.

"What?" Derek replied, looking almost almost self-conscious.

"Nothing," Scott grinned again, his eyebrows lifting, "Except I think maybe that looks even better on you than it does on the professionals out there."

"Uh . . . no." Derek gave a little scowl.

"I'm serious!" Scott pulled Derek into another kiss, wrapping his arms around him again, "Now let's go, before I really get in trouble."

Derek and Scott slipped into the crowd, glancing sideways at each other as they made their way to the buffet area where Scott introduced Derek to the other attendants and Stiles gaped at the sight of Derek in his skirt and lei. "Guys, this is Derek. He's offered to help us clean up."

"I have?" Derek murmured, receiving an elbow in the ribs as a reply, "Oh, right. I have." He gave everyone a polite smile, and Scott a phony glare.

Had Derek not been immersed in the smell of pineapples, coconut cream and Scott McCall, perhaps he would have noticed a hint of an all too familiar scent belonging to one he had hoped to leave behind. Perhaps if he had not been distracted by the smile that lit up Scott's face when he laughed or the euphoric thrill that ran through him at the slightest brush of Scott's skin against his... perhaps then he would have caught a glimpse of the eyes that glowed unblinkingly in the distant shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to make their move. But for the first time in years, Derek wasn't thinking about the shadows. For the first time since he was in his teens, he had experienced a moment that was nothing but light. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is awakened by the sound of a panicked Stiles pounding at his door.

Rain blurred his vision as Derek sprinted through the forest as fast as his limbs would carry him, his eyes glowing blue in the darkness. Waves of confusion and panic crashed over him as the overwhelming need to reach his destination clashed with the nagging feeling that this was not where he belonged... that he was supposed to be somewhere else. Still, as if of its own accord, his body carried him forward, barreling through the night. Something wasn't right. Despite how quickly he was moving by any normal standards, he felt slow—slower than he had moved in years.

Suddenly an intimidating, yet familiar growl filled his head. He was almost there. Breaking through the last of the thicket that stood in his way, Derek heard a snarling voice that was at once his, and yet not his own, "Get away from him!" He turned and saw a face that instantly threatened to wash him away in a deluge of joy, sorrow and loss that felt infinitely more staggering than the pounding rain.

There, pinned to a tree by an arrow through his shoulder, was his father, a look of absolute horror spreading across his lupine face, "Derek?! What are you...? Get out of here! Run!"

"I'm not leaving you to die." Derek heard himself growl, a surge of urgency and defiance ripping through him, "Besides, they can't take us both down!"

"Yes, they can." his father hung his head, drawing Derek's gaze downward to a gunshot wound tainted with the purple glow that was the sign of a wolfsbane bullet, "If you attack them, they **will** kill you."

Derek felt rage burning through him, propelling him forward a step closer to the rain-drenched figure that held a rifle trained directly at his father's heart, "Not another step." Derek clearly heard a woman's voice accompanied by the unmistakable sound of two guns being cocked as two more figures stepped out of the forest, "Listen to your father, boy. One wrong move and you're **both** dead. Leave now, and I swear by the code, we won't follow."

"Please, just go, Derek!" his father pleaded, his eyes filling with tears as they locked onto Derek's. "I **need** you to go."

Derek felt the searing heat of tears flowing down his cheeks, mixing with the chill of the rain as he turned and disappeared back into the forest, his father's final words drifting to him through the sound of the storm, "I love you, Der..." The sound of several gunshots echoed through the night, silencing his father forever.

A choked sob suddenly tore through him, his eyes flying open at the sound of banging on his hotel room door. Still on edge from his dream, Derek sat up and sniffed at the air apprehensively, his tear-clouded vision searching the still unfamiliar room that now seemed more foreign than ever. "Stiles...?!" Derek scowled in confusion as he wiped his eyes on his arm and threw on some pants.

"Derek? You in there?" Stiles called through the door, his banging growing more insistent.

"Hold on a second, dammit! You do realize it's like four in the morning, right?" Derek growled, glaring at the bedside alarm clock as he buttoned up his pants and unlocked the door, "What?!"

"First," Stiles frowned, his face looking far more worried than angry, "Is Scott here? He's not answering his phone, and last night after we finished up at the luau he said he was running to the convenience store, but he never came home. And second, does this mean anything to you? I found it... on the floor in front of your door." Stiles shoved a folded sheet of paper into Derek's hand.

Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles skeptically as he noticed the large piece of tape stuck to the paper.

"Alright, so I might have found it taped to your door and read it." Stiles blurted, "I was worried about Scott. Sue me. Not like it said anything useful anyway..."

Derek unfolded the paper, his eyes widening and his face draining of color as his lips parted in shock at the sight of the all-too-familiar handwriting within: " _Did you really think I'd let you go so easily_?"

"What?" Stiles gaped, completely at a loss as to how that one line of text could trigger such a reaction, "No way does that actually mean something to you!"

"Just get in here!" Derek snapped, pulling Stiles inside and shutting the door behind him, "This means something for both of us."

"Ow!" Stiles grabbed his shoulder where Derek had gripped him, his mouth hanging open as he stared incredulously at Derek, "You could've just asked, ya know."

"There's no time, Stiles." Derek retorted, his face suddenly contorted with worry, "God dammit! I warned him this would happen!"

"What, Derek?!" Stiles shook his head in confusion and growing frustration, "You warned him **what** would happen?!"

"Taylor." Derek frowned intensely, "She's here. And she's got Scott."

"Derek, you're not making any sense." Stiles grabbed Derek by the shoulders, "Who the hell is Taylor and what would she want with Scott?"

"She's my ex." Derek pushed Stiles' hands off of his shoulders and began pacing, "My psychotic, lying, cheating, sociopathic ex."

"Alright, she's bad news, I get it." Stiles was clearly reaching his limits as his mounting panic got the better of him, "But what makes you think she's got Scott? The letter didn't even **mention** him."

"I just do, okay?!" Derek shouted, staring daggers at Stiles before forcing himself to even his tone, "Trust me, if Taylor's followed me here from New York, then Scott is in danger."

Stiles suddenly took over Derek's pacing as Derek walked over to the window and stared outside, "Jesus! What kind of girls have you been dating?! Should we call the cops?" Stiles stopped and stared at Derek.

"NO!" Derek spun around, turning panic-stricken eyes on Stiles, "If she hears the police coming, she will take Scott and we will **never** see him again. And she **will** hear the police coming."

"That's crazy." Stiles raised his brows in disbelief, "This whole thing is crazy, Derek."

"Yeah, well that's Taylor..." Derek shook his head, "Look, there isn't time for this. I'm going after him." Derek grabbed the black henley from the top of his bag and pulled it over his head, "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, call this number. Ask for Laura. Then if you still need to call the cops, do it." Derek tore off a piece from Taylor's note and scribbled down his family's phone number, grabbing Stiles' hand and pushing the paper into his palm.

"Wait, you seriously think I'm just gonna sit around and do nothing while you're out trying to save my best friend from your psycho ex?" Stiles glared at Derek, his face a mixture of shock and defiance, "I'm coming with you."

It was Derek's turn to grab Stiles by the shoulders, unshakeable in his seriousness as he looked Stiles deeply in the eye, "No, Stiles, you're not. There's more to this than you understand and **way** more than I have time to explain. Just believe me when I say that Taylor would eat you alive. The best chance we have is if I go alone. If you really want to help Scott, you'll wait here and be ready to call that number."

Stiles glared at Derek furiously, his jaw clenching, "Fine. You have twenty minutes."

"Thank you." Derek gave Stiles' shoulders a little squeeze and bolted for the door.

Taylor's scent was still strong. It had been all over her note, on his door and still lingered on the railing and in the air, as if she had purposefully touched everything along her way. Despite the fact that it was still dark outside, Derek began picking up speed as he followed her trail, his mind ablaze with worry for Scott and an unshakeable feeling that despite the recurring nature of the night's dream, this time was different—this time it was trying to tell him something.

Time, however, was not on his side. Scott's scent was now mingling with Taylor's, along with a third scent that, though familiar, he could not seem to place despite his best efforts. For a moment his pace slowed as his mind reeled, struggling to account for the new information and cautioning him against rushing forward unprepared. But there was no time for caution, Derek decided, redoubling his efforts as he spotted a storage building set into the slope of a small hill not too far ahead. Without a doubt, Derek knew that Scott was here. The entire area practically thrummed with the smell of Scott's fear.

Derek paused just before reaching the building, taking a deep breath and straining his ears. But it was no use. All he could hear was muffled breath and the faint sound of Scott's heart pounding within the building's walls. Steeling himself for whatever awaited him inside, Derek reached for the door, growling throatily, his eyes flashing bright blue as he flung the door open and rushed inside.

"DEREK, RUN! IT'S A TRAP!" Scott shouted from the chair he had been bound to in the center of the room, earning himself a blow to the head as the door slammed shut behind Derek. Instantly a woman's arms wrapped around Derek from behind, a flash of cold steel pressing softly against his shirt.

"Lucas?!" Derek's eyebrows knotted in anger, confusion and surprise as he took in the sight of the thickly built, heavily muscled brunette looming over Scott's bound shirtless figure. Aside from a couple of scrapes and bruises, Scott looked relatively unharmed, though he had been stripped of his leis and grass skirt, leaving him clad in nothing but a torn pair of boxer briefs that were the same shade of green as his grass skirt had been the night before. The thought of what they had already put Scott through so infuriated him that he found it hard to care about the long, threatening sword held against him, or the subtle dark, spicy, floral scent that accompanied it. "Don't you fucking dare touch him again." Derek growled, his eyes flashing furiously, "This is between me and Taylor. Let Scott go!"

Hearing his name, Scott reflexively struggled against his bonds, his head spinning from the heavy blow he'd received and a wave of nausea making his body try in vain to double over from the sickening pain the effort caused. The sight was almost too much for Derek to bear, his claws beginning to extend with his growing rage.

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands, lover." Derek felt Taylor's warm breath against his shoulder, her voice that he had once found so seductive making him recoil in disgust. "Ah, ah, ah!" Taylor pressed her sword more firmly against Derek's shirt in response to his movement, "I wouldn't make any sudden moves if I were you. This blade is coated with wolfsbane. Even the slightest cut would be enough to kill you."

Derek froze instinctively, the image of the violet glow from his father's wound leaping unbidden into his mind, triggering several moments during which he even forgot to breathe.

"Thaaat's better, baby." Taylor cooed, her long brown hair brushing against his shirt, "But you can relax a little more than **that**! After all, I'd much rather we work through this whole misunderstanding peacefully. Speaking of which, I think you owe me an apology. You **do** remember how you left without even saying goodbye, don't you?"

"Sorry, I guess I'm too busy remembering the guys I kept walking in on you with." Derek growled, his anger at Taylor's inane hypocrisy temporarily overpowering his better judgement, "Not to mention the fact that you were threatening or attacking almost every person who dared smile at me."

"What was that, Derek, honey? 'Cause it sure as **fuck** didn't sound like an apology to me." Taylor's blue eyes flashed brighter as she slid the sword higher up Derek's body, bringing it a couple inches closer to his chest, "How about you, Lucas? Did that sound like an apology to you?"

"Like hell it did." Lucas growled in response, his meaty fists clenching.

"Alright..." Derek said flatly, unwilling to bring himself to cave so easily to Taylor's threats and assuring himself that she was bluffing, "So I think we know why Tay came all the way out here, but what about you, Lucas? What are you even doing here? Like I said, this is between me and Taylor."

"She's my sister, bastard. You **made** it about me when you hurt her!" Lucas's dark brown eyes flared red.

"The only thing I did to your sister was leave," Derek gritted his teeth, "and I should've done it a long ass time ago."

" **BULLSHIT**!" Lucas roared, his voice seething with hatred, "She told me everything..."

"That's enough!" Taylor interrupted, her eyes blazing blue as blind fury and fear began to wear cracks in her patience, "Derek, your choice is simple. Either you can come back home to New York with the woman who loves you, or you and your little human boytoy can die... right here and now."

"I swear to God, if you touch one hair on his head..." Derek growled angrily as he watched Scott suddenly renew his struggle—fear, tears and desperate determination contorting his face as he tried to break free.

Lucas grinned grotesquely and bared his teeth, his brow thickening as his ears grew pointed, fur spreading across his jaw and his claws growing long and fearsome. "You can't take us both down!" he laughed deeply, his eyes now steeped in an undying crimson glow.

Suddenly Derek's last conversation with his father flashed across his mind, burning through him with the fire of certainty and the power of conviction. "Yes I can...!" he said with a low, firm, steady growl.

"Derek, I love you baby," Taylor breathed softly into Derek's skin as she slid her sword up and down his torso, "But don't be stupid; if I can't have you...? **No one** —let alone some stinking human—can."

Derek took a long, hard look at Scott, his eyes welling up with tears as he made up his mind. "If that's your idea of love," Derek whispered, bracing himself, "then I'd rather die." Derek grabbed Taylor's hands, firmly enclosing them around the hilt of her sword and in one swift, clean motion thrusting it through his abdomen and into her chest.

"Kill him..." Taylor spat, glaring hatefully at Scott as she slid off of the sword, collapsing onto the cold concrete floor.

Lucas threw his head back in a mournful howl that shifted horribly into a dark, menacing growl. Lunging at Scott's throat, however, Lucas's teeth met only with air, gnashing angrily against each other as Scott threw his chair backwards, his bruised and bleeding hands finally slipping free from the rope that had bound them.

"Bite this, asshole!!" Scott yelled, grabbing a fire extinguisher from a nearby shelf, pointing it at the furious alpha and unleashing a torrent of chemicals directly into his face. Lucas howled in agony, his eyes burning from the unexpected assault.

Quickly Derek pulled the sword from his stomach, gritting his teeth and growling as his eyes began to glow, his face and body changing in response to the searing pain. Drawing back the bloodstained sword, Derek thought of his dying father pinned to a tree and the unbearable weight of the helplessness he had felt as he turned from him and fled into the forest. A single-minded swell of focus and purpose swept over him as he summoned every last ounce of his strength. "Never again...!" Derek cried, his muscles uncoiling like a tightly wound spring and driving the sword forward with devastating force into the neck of the blinded alpha. With a sickening thud, Lucas's head fell to the ground, his body not far behind.

For several moments the only sound was the roar of the fire extinguisher as it continued to expel its contents, filling the room with a thick cloud through which the glow of Derek's piercing blue eyes suddenly shifted to a brilliant red. "I think you can shut it off now." Derek rasped, the wound in his abdomen glowing an ominous purple and tendrils of hissing smoke drifting from its depths to join the heavy haze.

"No, I can't!" Scott shouted over the extinguisher's roar, "It won't shut off!" Uncertain what to do, he threw the spewing canister into a corner.

"Whatever, let's just get you out of here before the police arrive." Derek coughed as he sliced through the ropes with a claw, freeing Scott completely from the chair.

"The police? You called the police?!" Scott, stared at Derek's lupine face in shock, gratitude and resolve as he scrambled to his feet, "We've gotta get you outta here."

"I didn't call them, but if he doesn't hear from us soon, Stiles will." Derek headed toward the door and stumbled, barely managing to murmur, "That is, if he hasn't already."

Scott quickly started fishing around in Derek's pockets, retrieving Derek's phone and entering the number for Stiles' cell with little reaction from an increasingly dazed Derek. "Stiles?! No, it's me, Scott! Yeah, I'm fine but..." Scott sounded exasperated and scared, his eyes misting with fresh tears, "Look, just get down to the old storage building **NOW**! I think Derek might be dying..."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles make a frantic attempt to help Derek, whose life now hangs in the balance.

Scott barely noticed that he was wincing as his bruised fingers fumbled with the button of the jeans he'd asked Stiles to bring him. His heart was still pounding and his mind could barely wrap around everything that was happening. Turning to look at the gaping mouth and the ashen, horror-struck face of his best friend, Scott braced an increasingly shaky Derek with an arm around his waist. Instinctively, he knew that Stiles was looking at the severed head of the werewolf who had tried to kill him mere minutes ago, but instead of indulging his reflexive urge to confirm the suspicion, he forced himself to speak, "Look, I know this is all seriously messed up and crazy, Stiles, but I need you to focus. I don't think I can get Derek back to the apartment unless you help." Scott turned his gaze back to the lurching figure at his side, cringing as Derek's head lolled to the side, "Derek! Stay with me! Just... try to walk, okay? Stiles!! A little help?!"

Stiles blinked as if waking up from a trance, swallowing hard as he grabbed Derek's arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, doing his best to help Scott support Derek's faltering weight.

"Thank you." Scott shot a grateful look at Stiles over the back of Derek's drooping head, "Now let's get out of here."

As they struggled toward the apartment, a crushing silence crept over them, heavy with the burden of Scott and Stiles' fears and unanswered questions. The possibility of running into a guest had not escaped them, but fortunately the only person they met along their way was a middle-aged woman from the housekeeping staff, who simply shook her head and rolled her eyes at what she clearly assumed was yet another group of drunk guests who didn't know the meaning of moderation. Heaving a grateful sigh of relief, Scott and Stiles hurriedly ducked into their building, Stiles fumbling for his keys and fishing them out of his pocket as they neared their rooms.

Scott had to strain a little harder to support Derek as Stiles focused on unlocking and opening the door, but the two were beside themselves with relief by the time they had closed and locked the door behind them. Almost immediately, Derek slumped between them as if he were aware that the need for pretense had passed now that they were in private quarters. "Get him to the sofa, quick!" Stiles blurted, breathing heavily, "I don't think I can hold him anymore." Scott nodded and the two of them quickly deposited Derek onto the couch where he slumped unconsciously into the cushions.

"What do we do now?" Scott said, linking his fingers behind his head and burying his head in his arms.

"Don't look at me! I don't know... call 911 maybe?" Stiles offered helplessly, recognizing somewhere in the back of his mind that it probably wasn't a good idea, but unable to come up with a better solution.

"Are you crazy?! You saw him all... changed, back in the storeroom! What if he changes again?!" Scott freaked, throwing his hands out in front of himself as he spoke, "Besides, I doubt they'd know how to treat werewolves, if that's even what he is... Man, it sounds crazy saying it out loud!" He shook his head.

"I know, I know." Stiles said, clutching his hand over his jaw and closing his eyes, "Forget it. I just seriously have no idea what to do. It's not like we can just ask his ex for an antidote—if that was her on the floor, she looked even worse than Derek... and that other guy! Scott, are they **both**...? I think I'm gonna be sick." Stiles turned toward the bathroom, his color having gone from pale to a sickly green.

"STILES!" Scott shouted, staring at his best friend as if he'd just given him the keys to a new car, "You're a genius!"

"What? Scott, it was a joke." Stiles muttered, "And a bad one."

"No, Stiles, I know we can't talk to her, but maybe she DID bring an antidote—you know, just in case." Scott ranted frantically, "I mean she made it pretty clear she was ready to do anything to get him to come home with her, so wouldn't it make sense?"

"Scott, no, we are not going to go rummage through a dead werewolf's clothes for some antidote that may or may not exist." Stiles genuinely looked like he was about to pass out or throw up, "Besides, who says we would recognize it even if we found it?"

"Look, if you've got a better idea, then I'm all ears." Scott crossed his arms defensively in front of himself.

Stiles stared silently at Scott for a few moments, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, opening and closing his mouth as he dismissed each and every idea the instant that it came to him.

"You don't have to come, Stiles, but Derek's running out of time. I'm going." Scott said decisively, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Scott...!" Stiles started, muttering as he lurched into motion, "Shit! Fine." He grabbed Scott by the arm, "I'm not letting you do this alone. We'll do it together."

-

Scott and Stiles soon arrived at the storage building, Scott panting slightly and Stiles very much out of breath. When they headed for the door, however, the two turned and stared at each other agape. The door was wide open and though the body of the decapitated alpha remained, Taylor's had completely vanished. Stiles, his speech broken by the occassional gasp for breath, was the one who finally broke the silence, "Scott... there's only one..."

"Yeah! I can see that!" Scott panicked.

"Didn't you say she was... dead?" Stiles asked, trying not to look accusatory.

"I thought she was!" Scott put his hands on top of his head, his brow furrowing in confusion and shock.

"Well, on the bright side I guess we can ask her about that antidote now." Stiles scoffed, his expression darkening a moment later, "Wait... Scott! Look!" Stiles nodded toward a streak of black on the ground that looked as if someone had dipped a sponge in ink and smeared it across the floor, "Is that..."

"Yeah." Scott said, taking a deep breath, "Derek started bleeding black blood before you even got here."

"But **Derek** wasn't dragging himself across the floor, right?" Stiles quipped as he turned and followed the trail out the door with renewed energy and focus.

"No... he wasn't..." Scott dropped his hands to his sides as he realized that the blood couldn't possibly be Derek's and bolted after Stiles, grabbing his arm as he caught up to him in the clearing between the building and a nearby copse of cypress. Urgently he whispered, "Dude, don't run off like that! If she's still alive then she could still be dangerous."

"Yeah, great." Stiles blinked, murmuring, "One minute she's dead, the next she's tearing us to pieces in the woods."

Suddenly Scott threw his arm across Stiles' chest, halting him in his tracks as he continued whispering, "Wait here."

"What's with everybody telling me to wait behind today?!" Stiles whispered angrily, "No, Scott. No freakin' **way**! I'm not letting you out of my sight again, like ever."

"Fine! Just... be quiet!" Scott hissed, shooting Stiles a severe look as he quietly ducked into the stand of trees that the trail of blood had led them to.

Quickly, but carefully they picked their way through the trees until they began to hear a slow, sharp, electronic chiming. Straining their eyes, they found the source in a sleek, angular black speedster, carefully hidden from street view in the fading cover of night. Scott looked at Stiles meaningfully, nodding to the side and quietly circling around until they reached a point downwind. Peering cautiously from behind a pair of twisted trunks, Scott and Stiles could barely make out a crumpled figure on the ground next to the car's open door.

Several moments passed in silence, the pair hardly daring to breathe. As they stared at the seemingly motionless shadow, a sudden burst of sparks erupted in front of her, sizzling down to a short-lived little flame. A low growl filled the trees, growing louder and stronger with every passing moment. Soon the shadowy figure straightened up, her eyes flashing a cold, pale blue as she threw her head back in a strangled, agonized howl and struggled to her feet, stumbling resolutely in the direction of the storage shed.

Staring at each other for a long moment, Scott and Stiles stood frozen until at last the sound of Taylor's footfalls had faded away. In unison they stepped away from their hiding place and headed toward the sporty, shark-like black car, scouring the ground for any sign of what Taylor had presumably used to heal herself.

It was Stiles who spotted the small, brown leather pouch lying open in the dirt next to the car, "This has gotta be it, right?"

"Is there any left?" Scott asked, the onset of worry working its way into his expression.

Stiles gingerly picked up the pouch, being careful not to spill any of its possible contents. Peering inside, Stiles let out a sigh of surprised relief and nodded as he pulled the pouch's drawstrings, closing its mouth tightly and putting it in his pocket, "We should hurry back."

Scott nodded, his worried expression mixing with the beginnings of hope and renewed determination, "Yeah, let's go."

-

Having given the storage building a wide berth, Scott and Stiles had flown across the distance between the woods and their apartment, running as fast as their legs would carry them. When at last they had once again locked their door behind them, the combined waves of relief that washed over the both of them would have been powerful enough to sweep away the entire resort. One look at Derek, however, was all it took for their feelings of respite to be devoured and replaced with pure panic.

Derek was deadly still, to the point that Scott felt certain he couldn't even see the rise and fall of his chest that would indicate he was still breathing. His mouth hung slightly open and his face was as white as a sheet, a sheen of sweat covering every visible inch of his body and a dark, sunken look around his eyes. Scott buried his fingers in his hair, his voice coming out as a frantic, strangled sound, "Stiles, I don't think he's breathing!"

Stiles shook his head urgently as he rushed over to Derek's side and put his hand in front of Derek's face, letting out a heavy sigh, "He's breathing. Barely."

Scott lifted his head, his lips parting as he drew a deep breath and rushed forward, grabbing the pouch from Scott's pocket and opening it.

"Wait, Scott!" Stiles grabbed Scott by the hand, "I think we should burn it first."

"What?!" Scott turned and stared at Stiles like he'd lost his mind, "There's not much in here anyway, and you wanna burn it?!"

"You saw the sparks back there, right?" Stiles countered, a calm determination sweeping over him, "I think she lit it on fire before she used it."

"Yeah, I saw them... but what if that's just what it does, Stiles? It's not like we have any experience with this shit!" Scott furrowed his brow.

"Didn't you see the matchbook on the ground next to the car? Look I don't know if it's something I've read or what, but I feel pretty sure about this, Scott." Stiles clenched his jaw in determination as he looked Scott deeply in the eye, "Just trust me."

"I'll get a lighter." Scott said, placing the pouch carefully in Stiles' hand and disappearing into the hallway. When he returned, Stiles was sitting on the floor next to a small ceramic bowl into which he had carefully emptied the dried herbs from the pouch. Quickly Scott handed him the long black and red candle lighter he had retrieved from the bathroom counter.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Stiles pulled the trigger on the lighter and lowered the tip to meet the herbs. A reassuring shower of sparks flew from the bowl, landing on the surface of the table on which it had been laid. "Get his shirt out of the way." Stiles said as the sparks settled into a little dying flame and smoldered into ashes.

Scott hurriedly pulled the black fabric of Derek's shirt up around his neck, exposing his wound and the deep, angry blackish-blue veins that twisted across Derek's skin, spreading out from the poisoned chasm like vines that threatened to choke the life out of him. Wincing, he turned away, fighting back the fear that threatened to engulf him and the beginnings of thoughts that burrowed painfully into his heart like hungry worms into fallen fruit. Slowly shaking his head, Scott couldn't help but wonder how his feelings for Derek had shifted and grown so quickly or why he felt so intense a need to save him in spite of everything that had happened. When he closed his eyes, however, a conviction enveloped him and he knew that no matter what, that was what he needed to do. "Wait!" Scott blurted, "Stiles, what if we're supposed to feed it to him?"

"Scott, look at him! Whatever she used to poison him is obviously spreading through his veins. If it were snake venom, they'd give him an IV to get the antivenom into his bloodstream, right? Well since we can't exactly do that, this is the next best thing!" Stiles shot an impatient look at Scott as he ranted, "Besides, weren't you gonna trust me on this?"

Scott furrowed his brow in frustration, worry and helplessness, but nodded silently as he kneeled on the floor at Derek's side, forcing himself to put his faith in his friend's instincts.

Wordlessly, Stiles lifted the bowl of ashes and carefully brought it to a spot above Derek's abdomen. Holding his breath as if even the slightest flutter of air would snuff out Derek's life like a candle, Stiles tipped the bowl into his palm and pressed the ashes into the oozing wound. Stricken by a sudden wave of dizziness caused by the sight and sensation of the black blood against his hand, Stiles turned his head and closed his eyes, blinking repeatedly as his face drained of all color.

Suddenly Derek gasped, his eyes opening wide and briefly flashing red as his entire upper body siezed upwards and in on itself in agony. Stiles shook his head in surprise, recoiling reflexively by a few inches and dropping the ceramic bowl, but somehow managing to keep his hand firmly pressed against Derek's skin. Derek's jaw clenched and he released a slow, measured breath from his nose as Scott gently pressed against his shoulder, guiding him back down to the sofa. "How did you...?" Derek murmured, looking up at Scott without moving his head.

"Shhhh." Scott blinked back tears and smiled gratefully into Derek's eyes, "I didn't. It was mostly Stiles. More importantly, are you... are you gonna be okay?"

Derek gave an almost imperceptible nod as he looked across his body at a blinking Stiles, who openened and closed his mouth but kept his hand held firmly against Derek's rapidly healing wound, its tendrils of darkness receding and fading away. "You can move your hand." Derek murmured as he shifted back into a sitting position, "If you did what I think, the wound is probably closed by now."

"Whoa, Derek!" Scott shouted, once again grabbing his shoulder in concern, "Shouldn't you keep lying down?! I mean, seriously, you almost died."

"I'm fine." Derek said as he took Stiles' hand and weakly moved it aside to reveal that indeed his wound had completely healed, leaving only unblemished skin behind, "Which is strange, considering the wolfsbane Taylor used on that sword **should** be killing me right now."

"Speaking of Taylor..." Stiles finally regained his powers of speech, only to trail off as he shifted his stare from his hand to Scott, hoping that he would not have to be the one to break the news.

"What about her?" Derek turned to join Stiles in staring at Scott, much to Stiles' relief.

"She's alive, Derek." Scott returned Derek's stare, a look of intensity and determination masking the fear that the thought caused in him, "We went to the storage building hoping to find an antidote on her body, but she was gone and when we followed her, she was healing herself with whatever was in that pouch. That's how we figured out how to save you."

"You followed her?!" Derek's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. "That was stupid, Scott. She could have killed you..." he turned his gaze upon Stiles for emphasis, " **Both** of you."

"Wow." Stiles scoffed as he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes dramatically, "You're welcome."

"It's not that I'm not grateful." Derek said as he looked down at his lap. When he looked up again, he wore a look of intensity and seriousness as he returned his attention to Scott, "I am. But you shouldn't have done that. It was **way** too dangerous. I did what I did to protect you, Scott. If saving me meant risking your life, you should've just..."

Scott lunged forward, his eyes burning with anger, frustration and tears as he silenced Derek with a kiss, "Shut up, Derek." He shook his head as he pulled back to look Derek in the eye, "Maybe **I** wanted to protect **you**."

Derek blinked and leaned against the couch, staring at Scott in stunned silence.

"Oh my god, seriously you guys? Get a room." Stiles rolled his eyes and scrambled to his feet, "Actually, you two definitely have a **lot** to talk about, so... if you need anything, I'll be on the computer scouring the internet for everything there is to know about lycanthropy." He turned and walked away, shaking his head as he made his way down the hall, mumbling something Scott couldn't quite make out.

Once Stiles had vanished from sight, Scott turned away from Derek, his face burning with embarrassment in the awkward silence that followed. The heat that flooded his cheeks, however, was no match for the sensation of the rough fingertips on his chin and the warmth that rushed through him as he felt Derek's lips press against his.

"Thank you." Derek said, his captivating green eyes looking deeply into Scott's as if searching for a way to impart the words he could not give to the beautiful, tangled mess of emotions that was awakening inside of him. For a moment, Derek's lips parted again as he drew breath to speak, but Scott silenced him with his mouth, his hands grasping the back of Derek's head and drawing him close as they kissed, working their way down and across his shoulders until they reached his back. There they remained, pulling Derek's body ever closer to him, as if he feared that should he let go, Derek would slip away once and for all, as he so nearly had.


End file.
